Black Velvet Kings
by MidnightTrain
Summary: He promised he'd be waiting behind that church; he promised he'd change her mind. But he broke a lot of promises along the way, didn't he? AH, B/E
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** He promised he'd be waiting behind that church; he promised he'd change her mind. But he broke a lot of promises along the way, didn't he?

**A/N:** So, here we go! The structure of this story alternates between flashback and "present day" (Summer 2011 being present day.) The flashbacks are in chronological order, so one flashback will never be further in the past than the one before it. I'm going to post a link to the banner to my profile for those who like to have things to look at :) And yes, you can bet it's a Bella & Edward story. Thanks so much for checking it out!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

**Summer 2011  
><strong>_-present day-_**  
><strong>

I'm marching down a hallway in the dream and I just can't shake his memory. The air is heavy, it smells like stale beer and sweat and too much perfume. It's always been like this: years of chasing each other's shadows through these hallways and trying to force our way into locked rooms.

Sometimes I am alone, sometimes he is with me and we are desperate to be alone. Other times it's dark or crowded but always, always I can hear him. His music, it plays in the background. Sometimes it's so loud I can't hear the pounding of my fist against the heavy door that just won't open and can only feel his lips drawing my name against my skin. And sometimes it's soft, like a dying melody and I have to strain to hear the notes but I can still feel it all around like a soft buzz in my ears. But it's always there.

Always.

Today, his music fills my ears so loud I don't even hear the people swarming around me, speaking to me, making a fuss over me. I just smile. Smile when they smile, laugh when they laugh, wipe away the tears that will never come when they fight back their own tears of joy. And today is the first day I wish I could forget his music but I can't.

"It's whiskey," Rose whispers when she hands me a flask, and I wish I could drink it all. I raise the flask to my lips and it tastes like him, like the salty tears and whiskey on his breath the last time we kissed. Back then I was sure that those tears that fell on his lips had been mine. But these days I don't know. Because his music has been so sad lately. So sad.

Sad music that haunts my dreams and makes today impossible.

Every one in the room clears out even though I don't remember asking them to go. I wonder if they know. I wonder if it's possible not to know. I wonder if Garrett will know that today I'll be hearing the wrong words in my head, the wrong voice in my ear. And I wonder if he will care.

I wonder if he's ever cared.

Garrett's always been second and he's always known it. It's difficult to peg me a rogue when from the very beginning he's known this about me. I am hardly a half yet he loves me as a whole. Garrett still wants me like this. I tell myself that's how I got here. I tell myself that this is all for the best. But I still hear the music and taste the salt on his lips and I don't really know anything at all.

But the day has arrived. The one he sings about. And the moment will be soon to follow.

_You've got a white dress._

I close my eyes and pretend I'm sitting backstage and I'm wearing my favorite leather pants. I pretend the ringing in my ears is real. I pretend I'm waiting on him instead of this church full of people that are waiting on me.

_Gold ring on your finger._

I look down at my hands and wonder what kind of ring he would have bought me. I wonder if he'd buy me a giant expensive rock, or if he'd remember that night in junior year when I'd cried at his kitchen table while working on a project about blood diamonds. I made him promise to never spend another penny on meaningless jewels for me. I wonder if he'd remember I would want a recycled ring or none at all. I wonder if he'd remember all these things Garrett never knew.

_And I'm pacing out back, thinking of ways to stop this mistake. _

I close my eyes and pretend the music is real.

_Now it's my turn to make this right. To take us back, back to before I married my music._

"Bella?"

I look up as Charlie walks into the room. He just looks at me, his eyes filled with tears but not the happy kind of tears. And now, thanks to Charlie, I finally want to cry too. And these are the wrong kind of tears. These are the ones that hurt, not the ones that set you free.

"Hi, Dad," I say, and hand him the flask when he sits next to me. He drinks, and doesn't even cringe after he swallows like I always do. He's so much tougher than I am, my father.

"Is it show time yet?" I ask, trying to be brave.

His smile hides behind his mustache. "No, you've some time still."

"Good." I take the flask from him and tip it back. My father laughs. But he doesn't stop me. He won't try to stop me.

"You don't think I should do this," I say, my eyes on the ceiling because I can't look at my dad because I might cry, and I can't look at my dress because all the lace makes me sick.

My father sighs, and he won't stop me but he won't lie to me. "I just want you to be happy, Bells."

I close my eyes.

His voice is in my ear.

_But I'll wait behind that church, for the wedding bells to ring._

I try to picture him, wonder what he's doing. Right now. Sleeping on a bus. Backstage. Drunk. Halfway across the world. In a different time zone. Pacing outside the door. Behind the church.

_But I'll wait behind that church, for the wedding bells to ring. _

"You don't think he's really here, do you dad?" I whisper.

_I'll wait behind the church, 'till you belong to him. _

Charlie doesn't reply.

_I'll wait, always, 'till you change your mind. _

A lone tear escapes, and I feel it roll tortuously slow down my cheek.

"Garrett loves you, kid," Charlie tells me, and his hand finds mine.

I open my eyes and wipe the tear from my chin. And it should be enough.

And maybe it is.

.x.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Winter 2006  
><strong>_-five & a half years before the wedding_**-  
><strong>

I weave my way through the crowd like it's any other night. Because really, it is. We could be in Boston, or Austin or in some dingy bar in New York City right now because all of these places look the same. It's always dark, it's always loud, and it's always the same kind of people. The only thing that really changes is the feel, and this place feels like home.

I have a half empty five-dollar bottle of water clutched in my hand and Emmett and Rose are somewhere behind me. When I reach the line of security I pull my backstage pass from my back pocket and they let me through. A girl with thick black bangs and short messy hair elbows me as I pass her and I restrain from returning the favor. I'm much bonier and I've been taught to do far more damage with a stray elbow. I glance over my shoulder and am only met with the sneers of jealous girls who won't, and probably never will be, backstage at a concert like this.

These girls see me with him and assume they know me.

But they don't know me and they sure as hell don't know Edward. They don't know that we've been best friends since the day he crashed his cherry-red bicycle into my mailbox when he was still learning to ride it. They don't know that I picked up said bike and rode it around him in circles until he ran home crying. Or that we bonded that night over Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles after Charlie forced me to go over to the Cullen's and apologize. (We both shared a deep love for Michelangelo and Casey Jones and together we plotted new ways in which the Turtles could finally put an end to Shredder.)

They don't know the way Edward snort-laughs sometimes, like the way he did the time I caught my first (and last) fish and was so terrified of the slimy, sporadically floppy mess that I about threw myself overboard. Or that he swears _300_ is his favorite movie but I know for a fact he can quote almost every line from _The Princess Bride_. (Anybody want a peanut?) They don't know that we shared our first kiss in Jessica Stanley's basement when we were twelve. And they don't know that he promised to marry me when we were thirteen.

I never took him seriously, but still, _they_ don't know that.

There's a party already in full swing in the headliners dressing room. The lead singer is leaning up against the wall outside the door as a half-naked woman unbuckles his pants. He recognizes me from the beers we had a few nights ago in Portland and he waves to me as I pass. I wave back and grin. Rock stars are nothing if not cliché.

There's a door marked 'Black Velvet Kings' towards the end of the hall and I knock. It opens almost immediately and although it smells like beer and pot, the guys are simply chilling. It's a change of pace from the scene down the hall, but it's how we roll.

"Bella!" Tyler calls from the corner where he's perched atop an amp. "What took you so long?"

"Crazy bitches be crazy, Ty," I reply as Edward greets me, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me from my feet so we're face to face. When he kisses me the guys all groan behind him. Different town, different stage, but we always get the same reaction. We all hold onto the smallest of routines while we are on the road. This is one of them.

"What'd you think of the show?" Edward asks as he looks down at me, all adoring and sweet and just simply my Edward.

"You guys were amazing," I tell him honestly, because they really, truly are. "I wish you could be in the crowd for one of your shows – it's insane down there."

"Oh, don't worry – we get the insane part on stage too," Tyler laughs and throws a bunched-up pair of pink, lacy underwear at Edward's back. They fall to the floor behind him and I peek around him for a look. "And it looks like someone has a wee crush on your boy here."

I carefully nudge the small bundle of fabric with the toe of my shoe and laugh, "Really? People still do that?"

"Apparently they do in Seattle," Tyler replies.

"Well, at least they're women's underwear," I shrug, still laughing.

"Hundred bucks says Emmett was behind it," Edward says, kicking the underwear into the corner.

"Naw, Em's lacy pinks have gotta be at least a couple sizes bigger than that," I grin. "So where's everybody else? Jas and Garrett?"

"Jas is out schmoozing with the suits. Gar's out talking to some reporters I think. Oh hey Mark, tell Bella what that reporter asked you before the show," Edward says, glancing over at Marcus who is sprawled out lazily on a couch in the back corner of the room.

Mark laughs and props himself up on his elbow before replying. "Buddy asked me what we thought about the fact that there's more hype around us for this show than the actual headliners."

"More hype for you guys?" I repeat in awe. "What did you tell him?"

"That I had no fucking clue what he was talking about," Mark says before bursting out into laughter. "But I thanked him for the added pressure. What a dick."

"I'm sure he meant it as a compliment, you tool," I snort. "That's big, though," I say, meeting Edward's gaze, our eyes both sparkling with excitement. Jas keeps saying there's a really good chance the guys will be picked up by a major record label before the tour's over, and I'm beginning to think just might be right. "Really big."

"I know," Edward breathes softly, and before I know it his lips are back on mine. We've been together for years now and still every time he kisses me it feel like we're back in Jessica Stanley's basement. The boys groan in the background and Edward flips them the bird. It never really gets old.

When we break apart, Edward throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me further into the dressing room. "How long do you figure until my brother gets back here?"

"Not sure. I kind of snuck my way through the crowd – and unless Emmett decides to bowl the groupies down or Rosie flashes her tits, they might be stuck back there for a bit."

"Figures," Edward says, shaking his head. "Stupid ape. Can I get you a drink while we wait?"

"I'm okay," I say, shaking my bottle of water at him as we take a seat on one of the couches.

"What, no Stella for Bella?" Mark gasps and bolts upright on the couch, a look of mock astonishment on his face. "You do know you're the only reason we keep that shit around, right?"

"Screw you," I laugh.

"No, seriously," Ty leans across the small coffee table separating the couch he and Mark sit on from the one Edward and I are occupying. He's got a bandana tied around his long hair and a sloppy grin on his face. "I have never seen you turn down a beer. You preggo or something, Swan?"

"Seriously, you guys. Fuck off." I force out another laugh and I know that Edward is the only one who notices the color drain from my face at their words. Mark and Tyler go back to drinking their whiskey and I can feel Edward's scrutinizing gaze on me. I look anywhere but at his face.

"Bell," he says softly.

I shake my head and stare down the wall behind him.

"Bella," he tries again.

"Edward," I plead quietly as I twist the cap off my bottle of water. I still don't look at him. "_Don't._ Not right now."

"But Bell—"

I shake my head when I feel his hand on my cheek brushing hair behind my ear. He gently takes my chin and tilts my head in his direction. I stare at his bottom lip.

"Are you…" he lets the question die off and I can feel him searching my face for a reaction. But my non-answer is confirmation enough. He lets out a shaky breath.

Part of me expects him to push me away. To ask me to leave. To never come back. To call me a careless, irresponsible whore. And maybe that's what I want because I sure as hell do not want this _thing _growing inside of me. I want it out. I want to take it back. But this is Edward, and I should know better. Because what I don't expect, not even slightly, is what he does next. He pulls me into his arms and crashes his lips against mine. He kisses me with such frenzied, unrestrained passion that the room spins around me. And I kiss him back, if only to hold on.

We kiss our way out of the room and to the end of an empty hall lined with heavy steel doors. It's dark and I feel trapped but I'm still in his arms and I wouldn't want to be trapped anywhere else.

"When did you find out?" he asks, his voice breathless.

"This morning." I brush away a stray tear. The first tear I've shed over this because still – it doesn't feel real. "I took a bunch of tests."

"And you're sure?"

I nod. "Pretty sure. They all came back positive. And then I went out and got some more and they came back positive too."

He simply stares at me, looking as dazed as I feel.

My voice sounds tiny. "Edward, what are we going to do?"

He doesn't reply. I'm pretty sure he's in shock.

"I'll make an appointment…" my voice trails off and I stare at my feet. "I just want it out. I can't… I can't…" I swallow hard before I break down again. I try hard not to feel. Soon it will be over. And then we can get back to recording and travelling and after-parties. And it will be over. Like it never even happened at all.

I didn't even want to tell him.

I just wanted to take care of it.

We can't have a baby. We aren't even twenty. We're _teenagers. _We haven't even lived yet. Haven't even seen the world together yet.

"_Don't,_" he says so softly I'm not even sure he's spoken.

I look up at him.

"Don't," he repeats, louder this time.

"Don't _what_?" I ask.

He swallows. "Don't make that appointment. Don't…" he shakes his head slowly, sadly. "You have to keep it."

And really, I'm so stupid. But that's what they say about kids, don't they? We can't make big decisions. We're too young. Because I never even thought. Edward and Emmett are adopted. So of course he wouldn't want… because if _his _mom had… then, well, we wouldn't be having this problem right now.

"Adoption?" I ask, and the word feels weird on my tongue. I shake my head, but then I begin to see it. It's only nine months. We'll be home and if all goes well he'll be recording. I can have this baby and give it to parents who are ready for this. And then by the time the tour stars, we can carry on with our lives like nothing even happened.

Edward drops to his knees in front of me. His hands grip my waist and his head tilts back to he can look at me as he speaks, "That's my baby in there, Bell. _Our _baby. We can do this. We can have a family."

I blink at him. "Are you drunk? We _can't _do this, Edward. I can't… and you'll be _gone_. How are we supposed to have a family if you're living on the road?"

"We can do this," he repeats. "I don't care what it takes. We can do this."

I squeeze my eyes shut so I don't have to look into his face, see the desperation and the passion. "_How_?"

"I'll be here, Bell," he says, and he speaks with such conviction that I believe him. "I _promise_ you. There is nothing in the world that means more to me than this, right now. I will _always_ be here." He presses his cheek to my stomach and a tear slips down my face. He grips me tighter and my hands slide down to his hair as I hold him there, shaking.

"You'll give it all up?" I whisper. "For a baby?"

"I'll give it all up in a second, Bell. For you _and_ our baby."

We are kids and we know nothing. And maybe that's why I believe him. "Okay," I say, my voice trembling in the empty hall. "Okay."

I feel him move and I open my eyes to find him looking up at me, his eyes watery but his confidence unwavering. "I love you, Bell," he says.

I look down at him, and right now the only thing I know for certain is that the way I feel about him will never change.

"I love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Summer 2006  
><strong>_-five years before the wedding-_

Edward's chair scrapes against the linoleum when he sits down, and I'm humming his song as I smile at him. He smiles back but it's not his easy smile. I'm sure it's because he's been recording all week and he's always so tired when he's recording, so it doesn't bother me. It also doesn't bother me that it's almost midnight and we're just eating dinner. Maybe it would be strange to any normal couple, but we're not any normal couple. I'm smiling as I reach for the potatoes.

He clears his throat. "Bell?"

I look up, still humming. "Hm?"

"The tour is back on."

My hand freezes for a moment with a spoonful of potatoes in it. I look up at him across the table and my face breaks out into a grin. "Very funny, Edward."

"Bella—"

I tease him, "No, you should have gone into acting, Cullen. You could be the Timberlake of rock and roll."

Edward lets out a long breath and I laugh at him with a mouthful of potatoes because I'm so hungry that I just can't wait. Musicians have the strangest sense of humor. "I'm serious, Edward," I point my finger at him accusingly, unable to fight the grin on my face. "If you come home tomorrow with your dick shoved into a gift box I'm not going to act impressed." I shovel a mouthful of potatoes in my gob because, my _god_, I'm so hungry. And then I giggle because, okay, if Edward Cullen tried to pull off Dick in a Box it _would_ be kind of hilarious.

Edward rolls his eyes and sets his fork down on the table. He leans towards me. "Bell, come on. I'm being serious here. I talked to Jasper just before I left the studio."

I swallow and my laughter fades as I stare at him, still sure he is joking. I lean across the table, inspecting his expression. His eyes stare down at me, deadpan. And if he's truly messing with me he really _should_ go into acting.

"You really are serious, aren't you?" I say finally as I fold my hands on the table in front of me. "But… you're going?"

He nods.

My voice sounds weak. "But you said you wouldn't go…"

"They don't have time, Bell… They'd need to find a new singer and a new guitarist. It was hard enough finding a drummer and… I just, I have to go."

I sigh, because as much as I hate to admit it he's probably right. I shove another spoonful of potatoes in my mouth. "So when do you leave?"

"We leave for Stockholm in two weeks."

"Two weeks, Edward?" My eyebrows shoot up in shock. "For how – how long?"

"We're touring all of Europe, Bell. And then we'll be in Asia, and Jas is even trying to set some gigs up in Australia," he continues on like I haven't even spoken.

"Edward," I repeat slowly, "For how long?"

He looks down at his empty plate. His voice is so low I practically have to read his lips, "It'll end up being just over a year."

I explode. "A _year! Edward? A year!" _I slam my fist down on the table and he tries to cover my hand with his but I jerk away. And for a moment I'm speechless and vibrating with rage.

He begs, "Bella, please. Calm down. You can't—"

"I do not give a _fuck_," I yell. "You said it was cancelled. You said Garrett had mono and you were staying. You promised me you weren't going. You said you were going to _be here_, Edward. And now all of a sudden you're gone for a fucking _year_?"

He looks heartbroken but I hate him so, so much.

"_Edward, I need you," _I gasp. Because this was his mistake too. And I can't go with him. And I can't do this alone.

His head is in his hands and he speaks to the table. "We found a new drummer. I didn't want to say anything because it wasn't for sure, but… we leave two weeks from Saturday. Bella, I'm sorry—"

"No," I gasp, blinking back tears. "No. You can't go. You can't, Edward. The baby…"

"Thirteen months, and I'll be back, Bella. I'll be home every single chance I get. It kills me, leaving you behind like this but—"

"_Edward_," I beg, my eyes closing as they fight to hold back the tears.

"Bella, this is my life. You've always known that about me. But I'll be home for the baby. Bella, I _promise_."

"No." I withdraw further, my hands resting on the bump in my stomach. "You… you _promised_. You promised you'd choose this baby. You promised we would do this together. That is the _one thing _you told me when you decided you wanted to keep this… this _thing _growing inside of me. You wanted a family but a family is more than just me and a goddamn fetus halfway across the globe from you. I - I can't do it on my own, Edward. You're going to come home… you're going to come home to a nine-month-old son and you think I'm going to be _okay _with that? No, Edward. I can't. I won't."

He reaches out for me. "Bella—"

"NO!" I jump to my feet and the chair behind me goes flying. The tears make it hard to see as I back away.

"I can't do this, Edward. It's not just for a fucking _year. _Because after that, it'll be more recording, and more touring, and more interviews, and no – I just _can't. _You will never choose me – you will never choose _us_." I'm shaking and I lower my voice as I growl, "You want to leave? Then get out."

He's on his feet, his hands held out as he begs me to calm down. "Bella, _please_—"

"Fuck you!" I yell. "I should have just gotten rid of this stupid thing! It's tearing us apart already. I _belong_ on that tour with you, Edward. I can't stay here! I hate this thing! I hate you!"

"Just this tour, Bell." His voice is cracking and he's actually on his knees in the middle of the kitchen with his hands clasped together like he's about to start praying or some shit. "Just this tour… and that's it." But I can tell that he's not even convinced by the words coming from his mouth. "Believe me when I tell you that I don't want to go."

"Then _don't._"

"I'm doing this for you. For our _son_."

"You want to do something for your son?" I growl. "_Stay_."

"How am I supposed to stay? I can't just leave the band. Not after everything."

"But you can just leave me?" I gasp, choking back a sob. "I have been by your side for fifteen years! And you're putting some stupid little band and a handful of burnouts ahead of me? Yeah, maybe you were fucking lucky to have a few hits in the top 100 last year. Give it a couple years and you guys will be nothing but a distant memory. But what about me, Edward? You promised you'd always put me first."

"I am putting you first, Bella!"

"Fuck. You," I seethe, my teeth clenched.

"Bella—"

"Edward. Leave. _Now_." I point to the door with a shaking arm. My other hand still rests my stomach. And I realize what I'm doing. I'm protecting this thing – my _baby_ – from Edward.

I feel myself stand taller and point more fiercely toward the door. For the first time since this baby started growing inside of me, I actually feel like a mother. "Send Emmett for your shit tomorrow. But right now, I want you out of this apartment. _Go." _

"Bella." He makes a move to come towards me and I pick up a glass sitting on an end table beside me and it just misses his head. My fingers curl around the magazines that were sitting under the glass and I throw them, pages flying around us. My breathing is heavy and my face feels hot.

"Screw you, Edward!" I seethe. "Get the fuck _out."_

He has tears on his face when he finally leaves and I find his guitar, his Les Paul, his pride and joy. All I want to do is throw it out the window, watch it fall nine stories and smash to pieces on the pavement below, but instead I set it by the door with the rest of his stuff and pray my son never learns to play guitar and break hearts.

And I pick up the broken glass and sit in the mess at the door. Pages from the magazines litter the floor, and his face stares up at me from the cover of one. I see his pouty lips, his green eyes, his perfect jaw, his perfect face. I see the boy I've loved since I was five goddamn years old. My best fucking friend. The father of this baby.

I take one of his lighters to the cover and watch it go up in flames.

That night I fall asleep on the floor, my arms still wrapped protectively around my stomach. I cannot find the strength to go into the bedroom. I just lay on the floor in the pieces of my shattered world. And I see Edward, the boy I sat next to on the couch when we were eleven and watched stumble his way around a guitar he was just leaning how to play. I see my best friend, my neighbor since first grade, my boyfriend since tenth, and the father of my child, famous musician, and heart-melting smile. I see him up on stage, I see him in my father's backyard as we sit around a fire with an acoustic on his lap, I hear his soul awakening voice, and I see his things by the door and I begin to cry.

I was sixteen when I promised him I'd always be there, at every show, front and center. I promised I'd wait for him backstage every time those lights went down. And I've never missed a show. Not one jam, not once show, not _once_ in these past few crazy years.

And tonight he's broken every promise he's ever made me.

The apartment has never felt more alone. I have never been more alone. But one small nudge from the mass under my palm and I remember. I look down, crying as I realize for the first time that there is truly a human being growing inside of me. I hug my stomach tighter and I imagine that the tiny human in there actually hugs me back.

"Looks like it's just you and me, kid," I whisper into the night before sleep lures me under.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thanks to Kristina for being super-beta. Mistakes are mine because I'm always adding and changing and can never leave it alone.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

**Summer 2011  
><strong>_-present day-_**  
><strong>

"Bells?"

"Hm?" I look up to find Charlie smiling down at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking about.

"You really do look beautiful, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Dad." And I smile when he kisses my cheek. "Is Masen still with the guys?" I ask.

Charlie nods. "Riley has him convinced that if he sees you before the wedding, you won't get to be his mommy anymore."

"That's terrible," I say, but I laugh.

Charlie shrugs, "It's easier to keep an eye on him when he's too scared to leave the room."

I roll my eyes. "Remind me to never let Riley babysit."

"I raised you smarter than that, sweetheart."

"Sometimes I wonder," I sigh. And as if to prove the point, I look over at my father and ask, "Is there any chance you'll hang out and cover for me if I slip outside and get some air?" I don't really think about the words I'm saying but suddenly there's no taking them back.

Charlie looks down at me sternly and I'm reminded of a time when he'd catch me sneaking out past curfew. Before he'd turn a blind eye he'd simply give me that look, the warning that if I got caught he wouldn't take the blame. But I know Charlie and I know this means he'll let me go.

"Just don't be long, kid," he says, mostly because he has to. But I can tell by the look in his eye that he's wondering if I'll come back.

I try to pretend that I'm not wondering that exact same thing.

Slipping out back is easy enough – probably too easy, actually. I wonder how many brides before me have taken this exact same escape route – down by the private bathrooms and out the side door, completely undetected. I wonder how many of them have come back after leaving this exact way. I hitch up my skirt with shaking hands, and from here, I can't hear anything. It's almost like there's no vehicles pulling into the parking lot out front, no friends, no family, no one making their way inside. No one going in there, expecting me to say those two words that will change everything and nothing all at once. No, because from here, it's almost like an ordinary day.

The music in my ears gets louder when I approach the corner that will take me behind the church. I almost trip; I'm half-running but trying to hold myself back. My heart hammers against my chest and the music is so loud.

_I'll wait behind the church, 'till you belong to him. _

His breath is in my ear.

He's singing to me.

He's singing for me.

I can feel him humming beside me in bed, grey daylight sneaking through the cracks in the heavy hotel room curtains. I wake up with eyeliner and mascara smudged and caked under my eyes but he still kisses me when I roll into the warmth of his naked body. The TV is on in the background because the silence makes us both restless. And he starts humming again and I smile because I'm pretty sure that he doesn't need food or shelter or water to survive, only music. And me. Because he's always telling me he needs me, too.

I almost trip over a crack in the sidewalk and I stop for a second. I forget why I'm here, I forget that it isn't supposed to be this way.

I step forward and my feet touch a concrete floor and the beat of the music pulses with my body. They are songs I have heard a hundred times or more but every time I notice something new, like the way he closes his eyes when he sings a certain verse or the his body unwinds when the last note fades away. And I look up and he's standing there, sweat rolling down his jaw and his eyes on me, smiling because I'm there like I promised him I always would be.

But in a blink of an eye stage lights are replaced by sunlight and screaming crowd becomes silence.

_I'll wait, always._

I forget the music and the memories. I forget everything and I round the corner.

I look around. And my heart stops.

_Until you change your mind._

.x.

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><p><strong>AN:** ...Predictions? You know I love 'em. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Fall/Winter 2006**

_-four & a half years before the wedding-_

Edward couldn't be reached the day Masen was born. It was a week before my due date, and Emmett and Garrett were over at my apartment attempting to decode the instructions for the crib they were putting together when I first felt it. It was more like a stomach cramp than anything – only enough to cause me to pause in the hall with the platter of cold tea and cookies in my hands and wince. And the second I walked into the nursery and they saw the look on my face, the pieces of the crib lay forgotten on the floor. Before I could even process what was happening they began throwing items in my unpacked bag that had been sitting on the floor of my bedroom over a week. And in the chaos, Emmett had tried to pack the toaster.

I tried calling Edward the entire way to the hospital as Emmett sat beside me going through his cheat sheet from our Lamaze classes. Garrett and I hadn't been together back then and it was Emmett who volunteered to coach me through the delivery. To this day I still have a feeling that when Emmett had offered up his services for the job, he still had hope that his little brother would come back. Or at the very least make it home for the big day.

From the very beginning Edward had promised he'd be there to witness the birth of his son. And although I knew that realistically I couldn't count on that, I had hoped that he would at least be there in spirit. And yeah, I had an amazing support system with me at the hospital – but it would have been nice to hear Edward's voice. After all, he was half the reason we were all there in the first place.

But no one, not even his parents, were able to reach him during the entire six-hour delivery. And after I held my son for the first time, it was Emmett I passed him off to. My father was the third to hold Masen Anthony Cullen, then next were Esme and Carlisle, or Grandma and Grandpa Cullen. Then came Rose and then Garrett, and in fact, Edward would be one of the last people to meet his son and even hear the news of his arrival.

And it is one thing I hope Masen never finds out about his father.

.x.

Masen is sleeping when I get a text from Emmett. I'm dusting and re-dusting the apartment as I anxiously watch the clock and the buzz of my cell phone on the coffee table nearly causes me to jump out of my skin. I hop onto the couch and bounce a few times as I read the words on the screen:

_Hey slugger, E's flight just got in. Be at your place within the hour. _

I take a few deep breaths that are meant to be calming but really aren't. My hands shake as I hastily type back a short reply. _Okay. _

Okay.

Okay.

I can do this.

Today is Christmas Eve. Today Masen is six weeks and five days old. And today he's going to meet his father for the first time.

Okay.

I get up and I polish the stainless steel sink because it's the only thing left that's not already sparkling clean. I taste test the cookies I made this morning and put them out on the kitchen table. I double-check that all the lights are working on the Christmas tree. I fix my hair and pee and when I flush the toilet I hear Masen stirring in the nursery across the hall. I warm up a bottle and by the time I bring it to him he's fussing like he always does when he's hungry. I smile at him and bring him to the living room where I feed him while we wait.

And we wait.

And we wait.

And we _wait_.

It's dark out and Masen is sleeping again and I'm dozing with him in my arms by the time Emmett knocks softly on the apartment door and lets himself in. I rub my eyes and Emmett smiles at me as he walks in, but there's something else in his expression too. But I don't get much of a chance to process it though because behind Emmett, Edward enters the apartment.

"Hi," I say, standing with a sleeping Masen still in my arms. I smile, waiting for him to acknowledge me as he toes off his shoes. And when he looks up, I take an instinctive step away. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this isn't it.

The skin under Edward's lashes is a light purple and his eyes are almost glassy with fatigue. His messy hair is longer than he usually keeps it and looks slick like it's been too long since his last shower. He's unshaven and looks like he hasn't had a decent nights sleep in months, and when he greets me with a smile it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

And suddenly I'm blindsided by the hard reality of how much things have changed in the six months since I've seen him.

"Hey, Bell."

I glance nervously over at Emmett, who's got his arms folded over his chest and is watching his brother, his face rigid and emotionless. I stare at him questioningly for a moment before turning my attention back to Edward. The air feels stiff around us – heavy with unexpected awkwardness. Everything is just so _off_ and nothing is like I'd hoped it would be.

"How are you?" I ask, and it sounds less like a question directed at Edward and more like I'm questioning myself for speaking. I swallow hard and try my best to act as normal as the situation will allow.

"Good," he says, shaking out of his jacket. And I watch as his gaze travels down and suddenly his eyes widen and lock on Masen, like he's just remembered his reason for being here. And for all I know, maybe he has.

"That's… my son," he murmurs, his head tilted to the side and his voice a thousand miles away. "He's so _small_."

"Yeah…" I look down at the sleeping baby in my arms, the one who has been the center of my universe for the past six weeks, and gently brush my thumb over his soft, tiny cheek. I nod my head towards the couch as I address Edward, "Here – sit down. You wanna hold him?"

"Uh. Sure." Edward takes a seat and rubs his hands over the distressed denim of his jeans. I try to pretend I don't notice how bad they shake. I close my eyes for slightly longer than a blink and try not to panic. And for a second I have to remind myself that this is _Edward_. Despite the shock of his appearance, he's still the same person who I grew up making mud pies and tree forts with. He's still the same person who came running to my house every time he wrote a new song, excited beyond belief to share it with me. He's the one who fell in love with Masen when he was nothing more than a plus sign on a dozen home pregnancy tests.

But Emmett moves from where he's standing against the wall and sits right next to his brother, his eyes watching his every move as I pass Edward his baby boy. "You have to support his neck still," I say as Masen leaves my hands. "And…" But my voice trails off because I see the look on Edward's face, and I realize he's not going to hear a word I say. Because he's looking at Masen with the same expression I imagine I wear every time I look at him. Like he's the only soul in the world. Like nothing matters as much as that baby in your arms. Like something you didn't even know you'd been missing your entire life has just been placed in your hands and you wonder how you could have possibly ever lived without it.

Emmett claims he experienced something similar after he first discovered Call of Duty.

"He's perfect," Edward murmurs, his lips hardly moving. And my heart swells because, yeah, he is. He strokes the top of Masen's head gently with the back of his fingers and then takes Masen's tiny hand between his thumb and forefinger. "Hi, Masen Anthony Cullen. I'm your dad."

I feel an unexpected rush of emotions as I watch them, and suddenly I feel like I'm intruding on a very private moment. I swallow hard and turn so they can't see my face when I ask, "Are you guys hungry? I made some cookies. I should go grab them." I start to head towards the kitchen, but from the corner of my eye I see Emmett get up.

"B, wait up a sec. Edward, just… stay on the couch," Emmett growls at his brother but he's lost in Masen and he's not listening.

When we enter the kitchen, I flip on a couple of lights and turn to face Emmett. "Where the hell have you guys been? You texted me almost three hours ago, Emmett," I hiss.

He lets out a long breath and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. He winces, and I tilt my head to the side as I inspect him. His hands drop to his sides and that's when I notice the pink mark across his left cheekbone. "And what happened to your face?"

He shakes his head and glances back towards the living room. His voice is low when he speaks, "I'm sorry, Bella. I wasn't even going to bring him here, but he threatened to take the next cab and I didn't want him to be here like this with just you and the baby…"

My heart starts pounding as I realize that something is wrong, and not just awkward I-haven't-seen-you-in-six-months-and-gave-birth-to -your-child-during-said-time wrong, but that something is really _wrong._ And I realize that maybe deep down I already knew where this was going. And I feel the bitter disappointment wash over me because I always thought Edward was immune to these effects of fame. And I hate that I'm wrong about it. I sink back against the counter and try not to get sick.

"So you guys got into a fight?" I ask, because I can't talk about what he's just admitted out loud just yet.

Emmett shrugs. "I tried to tell him I wasn't going to let him come here if his head wasn't on straight. He said he was fine, but he wasn't. He isn't. He hit me and I couldn't even hit him back. I'm just… he's my baby brother, you know? But that's not _Edward _out there, and I don't know what's going on but it's breaking my fucking heart."

"Jesus Christ." I feel my eyes fill with tears and I have half a mind to run back in the living room and grab Masen and kick Edward's ass out that door. But I see him sitting on the couch and I see that look on his face and I know, I _know _he won't hurt Masen. He loves him too much already.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he breathes.

I shake my head, my voice sounding far more calm than I feel. "It's not your fault. Maybe he's just worn out, Em. I know what it's like being out there… it can drain the life out of you. And he's been so far from home…" I'm making excuses and praying to god that they just might be right.

"I don't know." Emmett just sighs, and he looks like he's on the verge of tears. His wide eyes are blood-shot and sad. I don't know if I've ever seen Emmett just so _sad_. "I just... I don't _know_." He lets out another long breath and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes again.

I hug him and this time I'm pretty sure he is crying.

"Maybe this is good for him," I say softly. "Seeing Masen. Maybe it'll snap him out of this… whatever."

"I hope so," he says, his breathing ragged. "Because this is not good."

"No," I agree. And I try not to think. I try not to think how it would have been if I had been there. If I'd be some kind of walking zombie like Edward right now if not for Masen.

Still rubbing Emmett's back I glance into the living room.

And my heart stops.

Because the couch is empty.

I bolt into the living room and find no one there. I spin circles, my eyes flashing around every corner of the room, like maybe they're hiding behind the couch or under the Christmas tree.

"Edward?" I call out, my voice trembling. My hands are on my head as I turn another circle, trying, trying, _trying_ not to assume the worst. "Edward, where are you?"

Emmett is right behind me and he yells louder. "Edward!"

When there's no answer, Emmett and I glance at each other and a beat of a second passes before he throws open the front door and sprints out into the hallway and I rush from bedroom to bedroom, yelling for Edward. I check the bathroom last and I start to get hysterical when I find it empty.

I turned my back for two minutes.

I trusted him.

I don't know him anymore.

And now they're gone.

I don't even bother with shoes as I run out the front door and through the apartment halls, yelling Edward's name. And finally I hear a reply from down the stairwell. It's Emmett and he calls, "We're down here, Bells! I found them." I hear a tiny, chocked cry that I recognize as Masen's and my heart slowly begins to beat again.

I race down to meet them. Emmett is on the landing, cradling Masen against his chest as he tries to soothe him. He and Edward both have identical furious expressions on their faces. I run up to Emmett and take Masen into my arms, holding him tightly to me as we cry against each other.

"Where the hell did you go?" I hiss, trying my best not to yell if only for Masen's sake.

"You both need to calm the fuck down," Edward snaps, glaring at Emmett and I. "I brought some stuff for Masen and forgot it in the car. You guys were pretty wrapped up in each other so I thought I'd take Masen for a walk and go grab it. I was coming right back! Where the fuck did you think I went? I'm not completely useless, you know!"

"Edward…" Emmett says warningly.

"No!" Edward cries, stopping and shoving his brother back. "Fuck you, Em. I show up and all of a sudden you've got the big brother, holier than thou act going on and that's not fucking cool. You don't even know me anymore, bro. Don't fucking be like that to me."

Masen begins to cry harder and I turn away from the boys, trying to calm both Masen and myself down. "_It's okay_," I whisper to him, over and over again, like if I say it enough times it'll be true.

"Edward, I could give two fucks if it's just your own life you're messing up, but you've got a son now -"

"Who seemed pretty fucking content to be chilling with me until you two lunatics came yelling after us," Edward growls, cutting Emmett off. "And you don't have any fucking clue what you're even talking about, Emmett."

And before Emmett can reply, Edward grabs my arm and reaches for a still-crying Masen. "Let me see him, Bell."

I step back stare at him, and wonder who in the hell this is standing before me and just what in the hell happened to the Edward Cullen I knew. Because I have never seen him like this before. Never heard him talk to Emmett like this. Never seen this wild look in his eye. So I press my cheek to the top of Masen's head and shake my head.

"Bell," he says, his voice growing angrier. "Let me see him."

I take another step back. "…No."

Edward looks at me in bewilderment. "What the fuck do you think I'm going to do to him? You're _right there_. Just let me try and calm him down."

"Come on, I think we should just go back upstairs." Emmett says, stepping between Edward and I. "He's probably hungry."

"And who are you, his fucking bodyguard?" Edward seethes, shoving him out of my way. "Let me see my son!"

"_Edward_," I say sharply and he stops. I run my hand up and down Masen's back as I bounce him lightly.

He turns to face me and his voice softens as he addresses me. "Bell, come on. Just let me… I won't hurt him."

"Just come upstairs, Edward," I plead.

"Bell…" he says gently, and then the realization flashes across his face. "You don't… you don't trust me," he says, and he looks heartbroken. "Bell." He takes a step forward and raises his hand and touches my hair, "Bella, it's _me_."

I close my eyes. Masen has stopped crying and I wonder if it's the sudden lack of hostility or the closeness of his father. Edward takes another step toward us and crouches down so his face is level with Masen's over my shoulder. "I won't hurt you, little guy," he breathes softly. "You know I'll never hurt you."

I'm on the verge of tears again and I let out a long, shaking breath. "Can we just go back upstairs? Please?"

Edward straightens back up and nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I'll meet you up there," he relents. "I just want to grab that stuff from the car."

"All right," I sigh, and Emmett touches my back as we climb the stairs and Edward jogs down them.

"Is this okay, Bells?" he asks.

I shrug, still holding Masen tight. "No," I admit quietly. Because I'm fucking scared. And I don't know what to do.

"I shouldn't have brought him here," he mutters and he's probably right, but I don't say so. Because really, I shouldn't let him back in but I probably will. However, I do wait for him outside the door to the apartment and ask Emmett to take Masen and wait inside.

Edward comes strolling around the corner and stops when he notices me. I push myself off the wall I'm leaning against when I see him. "We have to talk," I tell him.

"Okay," he says, looking slightly confused but I'm pretty sure he's just playing dumb. "What about?"

I shake my head and look at him sadly. "Just… what's going on with you, Edward?"

"What do you mean?" he hedges, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans as he leans against the wall.

"For one, you look like shit," I say, and my candid assessment doesn't seem to phase him. "And you're acting like… like someone I don't even know."

"So I've changed," he shrugs, almost amused. "It's been a pretty big year."

"Yeah, I get that," I say dryly. "It's just… I don't know. You're starting to remind me of some people that we've met in the business. And not in a good way."

He rolls his eyes as he pushes himself off that wall and takes a step towards me. "So I look like I haven't slept in a few days? Probably because I average four or five hours every couple of days. It's not a big deal."

I shake my head and sigh, reality hitting me hard and harder with every second that goes by. "It's not natural, either."

He just shrugs and looks away, admitting nothing and everything at the same time.

I feel my fists bawl up in anger. "So you're just about to make it big and this is what you do? We've been on tour with the fucking major league burnouts that can hardly make it to their own damn sold-out shows, Edward. We've _seen _it."

"It's not like that. You're not _there_, Bell," he says, his voice growing angry. "And you have no idea what it's like anymore."

"No, I don't," I agree. "Because I'm here doing the best I can to raise _your_ son. Remember the one you promised you'd be here for? And yet here you show up for the first time out of your fucking mind, doing a pretty good job of assuring me I made the right decision when I kicked your ass out of here last summer."

"That's not fair," he growls. "Do you think I'm not doing this for you guys? So that Masen can grow up and have any life he wants? So that you don't ever have to worry about making ends meet? And _I'm_ the bad fucking guy?"

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh yeah, it's obviously all about us. Come on, Edward. Masen doesn't need your money, and neither do I for that matter! What he needs is a _father_."

"My brother seems to be doing a pretty good job of filling that role," he says, his voice bitter.

"Because he didn't have a choice. Because _you_ weren't here and I needed someone. He's doing it for _you_, you blind fucking idiot. He's doing your job for you because he still believes you'll come back!"

Edward just shakes his head and starts pacing circles in the hall. "You're making a big deal out of nothing, Bella," he says, tugging at his hair as he paces. "_You're_ the one who told me to go-"

"You were going to leave anyway!" I seethe. "After you promised… you _promised…" _I can't even finish my sentence so I just shake my head and hold back the tears.

"You told me to go," he repeats angrily.

"Because I wanted you to change your mind, Edward!" I say, angry that I have to point it out to him. That he can't see. "Because I wanted you to _stay_."

"Well it's too late for that," he says and I just shrug because, yeah, it is.

I let out a long breath and close my eyes before I begin to speak. And when I open them I want nothing more than to be greeted by the playful smile of the Edward I knew. But it's been gone for some time now. Maybe even since he walked out that door last summer.

"Edward, this is just… this is so fucked up. I can't let you come back here, you know. You can't come back until you've got your shit together," I say, opening my eyes to meet his. And maybe it's an ultimatum. But it's not an unfair demand. I'm giving him a choice and inside I'm praying he'll make the right one. "Because how can I trust you to look after him when you obviously can't even look after yourself? I know you think you're fine and you have it under control, but Jesus, he's just a _baby! _And it's my job to protect him, and right now the only way I know how to do that is to keep him away from you."

His face falls and I can tell I've hit him where it hurts.

"You promised. Don't you at least remember that? When you promised that you would do whatever it takes." I draw in a deep breath. "Well, this is what it's going to take."

"Bell-" he starts but I cut him off.

"You scared the hell out of me, Edward," I say quietly. "Still kind of do, to be honest."

"It's not that big of a deal, Bell," he insists. "Sometimes I just need something to keep going, you know? But I _do_ have it under control. It's just hard to do it all sometimes. It's exhausting. And every once in a while we all need a boost."

I wipe away a few more tears because I'm just so _heartbroken _to see that this is what's become of my Edward. Six months ago Edward rarely even smoked pot, never mind the shit he's apparently into now.

"Just _please_, Edward. I want to see you have a good relationship with Masen, but I just can't. Not like this."

"It's not like anything, Bell! You don't get it. You're not _there_."

"And thank god I'm not, because I would never be able to stand by your side and watch you do this to yourself," I say. And I don't even really know if it's true, but I'd like to hope it is.

"If you want to make this work, you're going to have to earn my trust," I tell him. "I just… I don't even know who you are anymore, and it's _killing_ me. You have to understand where I'm coming from. You saw that beautiful little boy in there, and it's my job to look out for him. And more than anything in the world, I want you to be there for him. I don't want you to be one of the people I have to protect him from."

When he looks up at me, his eyes are wet and the sight causes an ache in my chest. He crosses his arms and then lets them fall to his side. He runs a hand through his hair and bites his lip, avoiding eye contact with me until he's got himself together. I know just how easily you can forget that there is a real life out there somewhere while you're on the road. And I know just how hard it can hit you when you come back. It's his first wake-up call in a while and I think I might be getting through to him.

"Can I at least come back in?" he pleads softly. "I understand what your saying, Bell. And trust me, I would do anything to change the way you're seeing me right now. I guess I don't really know what I was thinking." He runs his hands through his hair again and ducks down again so his eyes are level with mine. Like if I look at him straight on, I can _see_. "But I'm okay right now, I swear… and I'll show you. It's my job to protect him too, and I _won't_ hurt him."

I can't look at him when I talk because right now all I can see if the boy who gave me a dozen white roses when he asked me to go to senior prom with him, even though he knew I'd say yes. I see the boy who'd get up early to make me French toast when I was hung-over or the kid who made me jewelry out of his mother's paper clips when we were eight. And even though I'm not looking at him I still tell him, "Okay."

Okay.

But really, it's _not_ okay, and it doesn't change that fact that we're both living in two completely different worlds. It doesn't change the fact that he still can't see where he messed up and it doesn't change the fact that I don't trust him. And it doesn't change the fact that I feel lost and heartbroken and that I still have to take a minute in the hall and try to gather myself before I can face him again.

When I go back inside, Emmett and I watch Edward like a hawk, and I'm sure he's the one who feels like a child. We lay Masen down on a blanket on the floor and sit down around him, coaxing small smiles out of him that make our hearts soar and forget about all the bullshit today has brought us. Masen's wide-eyes wonderment when he looks up at Edward makes me feel too many things to even try to dissect. He smiles up at his father, kicking and cooing and reaching out to him, and I wonder if somehow he knows. I wonder if this six-week old baby has been feeling the loss of something in his life too, something he can't quite understand yet. Because he hardly takes his wide eyes off Edward, like he somehow knows that he might look away for just a moment and his father will already be gone.

Edward snaps pictures of Masen with his cell phone and shows Masen the small Black Velvet Kings onesie he had special made that'll fit him in a few months. And he hands me the BVK album that won't be out until the new year, and in the CD booklet I see that each member of the band has written something special for Masen. I smile as I read the inscriptions, and I can practically hear their voices saying the words they've written, and shit, I miss them. After all, those boys were my family for a long time. And I never would have dreamed I'd have to give them up to have this.

"They all say hello," Edward says quietly, and I don't realize it but his eyes are on me.

I smile and wipe a stray tear away with the back of my hand. "How are they doing?"

"Good," he says. "Being out there… it's a dream come true for them." And I know he means 'us' but I get why he doesn't say it.

"That's good," I say. "They deserve it."

He nods and we leave it at that.

Edward feeds Masen, and I don't think his eyes leave his son from the second he latches onto that bottle. And it's kind of surreal, watching him hold our tiny son in his arms and coo nonsense like no grown man should. I try to forget it all, our conversation in the hall and that unsettling look in his tired eyes and the way I just can't seem to relax around him, because I want to be able to appreciate this moment. I want to be able to smile when I tell Masen about it one day. But I can't because nothing, _nothing _is going as I'd hoped.

When Masen falls asleep in Edward's arms we take him to the nursery to lay him down for the night. When Edward sees the nursery his face lights up – it's been decorated in stars and moons and suns that Emmett and Garrett painted the weekend before Masen was born. And painted on the wall over the crib are the lyrics to a song Edward wrote for me when we were barley sixteen. Tonight the words bring tears to my eyes.

_Though we may stand far across distant shores,_

_Forever my heart beats to the rhythm of yours._

"It looks amazing in here," he says, and I watch as his eyes follow the words on the wall. "That's…" his voice trails off, and he simply swallows hard and smiles to himself. "I haven't played that song in a long time…"

He sounds apologetic, but he shouldn't. That song is the one thing I know I'll always have of Edward – that will always be mine. We promised each other a long time ago that no matter where life took us, that song would always be just for he and I.

"I always loved that line," I say, so he knows I'm not upset. And we just look at each other for a moment and smile. And it's peaceful, and feels like the first moment of understanding we've had all night.

When he looks away, he tilts his head back and gazes at the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling. "Hey, were those -"

"Yeah, your mom gave them to me. Said it was a mess picking them off of your ceiling but it was worth it," I tell him quietly.

"That's so cool," he muses, "knowing he sees the same stars I used to look at every night before I went to bed. Same stars we slept together under for the first time… Or that he can look out the window and see the same sky I see half a world away…" His voice trails off and I can practically hear the words changing and rearranging in his head. It's the way he always gets when inspiration strikes – when he's found a new song.

"Come on, let's put him to bed," I say gently, leaning over the crib and smoothing out his blankie from his nap earlier.

"I don't want to wake him," Edward says, frowning as he moves to place Masen in the crib.

"Just do it gently," I tell him. "Here, like this." I place my hands under Edward's, practically our first contact in six months, and together we slowly ease Masen into his crib. He stirs slightly, his hand curling into his tiny fist as he sinks down into the mattress, but he doesn't wake. Edward doesn't let go of my hand, even after we've pulled away and Masen is settled. He smiles softly down at his son, the fingers of his free hand stroking the top of Masen's head before he leans down and places a kiss there. "Goodnight, buddy," he says quietly and we stand there together for a moment, hand in hand, as we watch our son sleep. I have to fight the urge to pull away, and the urge to wrap my arms around him. Instead, I do nothing and wait until Edward slowly untangles his fingers from mine and together we turn and tiptoe out of the room.

We enter the hallway and I ease the nursery door shut behind us. Edward's voice is still quiet as he speaks from over my shoulder, "Hey, Bell?"

"Yeah?" I reply as we pause in the hall.

"You're, um, you're a really great mother, you know. I had a hard time picturing this, but you're doing an amazing job."

"Uh, thanks," I say, taken aback by his words. I turn towards the kitchen so he can't see the emotion on my face. "But I have lots of help, too. Charlie tries to make it out here as often as he can. And your mom's been great through all of this. Your whole family has been."

"Yeah…" he says, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed as if deep in thought. And we don't talk about the fact that his family is there for me because he can't be. Or that his mother is there because my own isn't. But that's just how it's always been – we don't have to talk about these things to know that we're both thinking about it.

"So you're heading out tomorrow then?" I ask as he follows me silently to the kitchen. Emmett is in the living room, watching TV with the volume down low – attempting to give us as much privacy as this small apartment will allow.

"I'm supposed to be," Edward says, leaning back against the counter across from me. "We've got a show on the 26th. But I'm gonna see if I can't get a red-eye out tomorrow night or something. It'd be nice to be around for Masen's first Christmas."

"Yeah," I nod. "But, I mean, if you have to go… it's not like he'll ever remember it anyway." I bit my lip, trying to give him an out in the easiest way possible.

"That's not the point," he says and I agree, because he's right.

"You guys are coming to my mom's for dinner tomorrow night?" he asks, scratching at his head like he's trying to remember if he's got the details right.

"That's the plan."

"Well why don't you come by earlier, and that way we can all spend some more time together. I'm sure there will be lots of presents for Masen if my mother has anything to do with it." He looks up at me and smiles, like he can charm me into saying yes. It's a smile I used to think was specially reserved for me, but now all I can wonder is if it's the smile he uses on all the girls.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," I say noncommittally.

"Come on, Bell," he says, his smile faltering. "I'm trying here."

"I know, I know. I just… I told someone I'd stop by tomorrow afternoon."

"Well bring them with you," Edward says. "I'm sure mom wouldn't mind."

I hesitate and glance down. "I don't know if that-"

"Come on, Bell. It's Christmas. We should all be together."

I let out a long breath and shake my head slowly. "Well… I'll ask," I promise.

"Cool," he nods, placated.

I smile and wish it didn't feel so forced, and then let out a yawn that I cover with the back of my hand. "Well, I hate to kick you guys out," I say apologetically. "But I think I'm gonna hit the hay."

"It's like nine o'clock," Edward snorts.

"Yeah, well, Masen didn't sleep all too well last night, and when he doesn't sleep neither do I." I don't mean for the words to sound so catty, but I _am _exhausted and I haven't been much of a night owl for the past six weeks.

"Oh. Right." Edward frowns.

"Yeah, but I'll call you in the morning and let you know what the plan is," I tell him as I hold back another yawn. "You're staying at your parent's place?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Or… well, I was thinking… maybe… I could stay here tonight?" he asks, glancing over at me with a hopeful glimmer in his eye. "I'd get up with Masen so you don't have to. And I could make you guys French toast in the morning, or whatever you'd like."

I don't even bother to tell him that Masen obviously doesn't even eat solid foods yet. And I'm sad because a couple of hours ago I dreamed of hearing him say those words. This was exactly what I wanted. How I'd hoped it would go. But now it's all wrong – it's so fucking wrong. And it kills me to have to say it, it's nearly impossible to force the words out, but it's not just me I'm looking out for anymore. So I shake my head as I tell him, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I just thought… maybe… we could be like -"

"Be like a family?" I ask, cutting him off, and I almost laugh at the sound of those words. "No, Edward. Because then what? Tonight we're a family and tomorrow you're halfway around the world doing god know what with god knows who? I love you Edward, so much, but it _can't _be like this. I won't wait around for you."

"It's not like that, Bell," he vows, and it disturbs me because I can't even tell if he means it or not. "And if it's the drinking or the drugs, you don't have to worry about that shit. I won't even touch it again if that what you want."

I shake my head, because the root of our problem isn't the drinking or the fucking drugs. "You shouldn't touch this shit because it's not _you, _Edward. At least not the Edward I knew. And, you know, tonight made me realize a lot of things. And I just… I can't do this with you. I don't have the time or the energy to worry about you _and_ Masen right now."

"Bella, you wouldn't have to _worry_-"

"Come on, Edward," I say, rolling my eyes. "Judging by the state you showed up here tonight, yeah, I have a lot to worry about. And I'm not going to lie to you – I had my hopes, alright? But now I see that I have to let that go. I'm not the kind of person to sit around and wait, and you won't stay."

He tugs at his hair in frustration but he doesn't deny it. Because we both know I'm right. He paces in circles and I watch him with my arms folded over my chest, trying not to feel, trying not to let the pain get to me. I watch as his facial features tighten, as he constructs a wall between us as I start building a wall of my own. Because it's the only way we know how to not get hurt. To put on this façade. To pretend it doesn't matter.

To fool ourselves into believing that watching fifteen years of history fly out the window is as easy as breathing.

"Fine," he shrugs, and waves me off while he rubs at his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's just… fine."

"Okay," I say quietly.

"You'll still come tomorrow though, right?" he asks. "Because I still want to see Masen."

"Of course I will, Edward," I sigh. "I'm not cutting you out of his life. I'm just saying that you and I… we're just not going to work right now."

And he can't hide the heartbreak in his eyes as he slowly backs out of the kitchen. "Okay," he says, his voice calm but shaking. "Okay. Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," I nod, and when he turns his back I lean against the counter and let out a long, long breath. I can't even remember a time when I felt more emotionally drained.

"You all right?" Emmet's voice startles me as he pokes his head in the kitchen just as the front door to the apartment slams. I cringe and mentally curse Edward as I listen for sounds of crying from down the hall, but it's silent.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I sigh. "I'll see you tomorrow, Em."

"See ya, slugger. And you call me, if, you know, if… anything."

"I will," I tell him. "Night, Em."

"Night," he says, and I watch him slip into his shoes and follow his brother out the door.

After they leave I muster up all my remaining energy and make two phone calls. The first one is a quick conversation with Esme, who is more than happy to grant me my – or more Edward's, I guess – request. Which, after I hang up the phone, I realize is kind of strange but maybe Emmett's already tipped her off and she has an idea of what's been going on. But I don't give myself time to over-think it before I dial the second number and quickly press 'send.'

Part of me is praying it'll go to voicemail.

But of course it doesn't.

"Hello?"

He answers after the fourth ring.

"Hey, Garrett? It's Bella," I say quickly. I realize I have one hand on my chest, like I'm trying to mask the loud thump, thump, thumping from under my palm.

"Hey, Bella." He says my name slowly and I can almost feel his smile from over the line. "Merry almost-Christmas! How's it going? How's Masen?"

"He's good," I say, sinking back into the couch and letting his cheery voice relax me. "I just put him to bed, actually. Hey, I'm not interrupting anything right now, am I?"

"Of course not," he assures me. "Why, what's up?"

"Well, I know it's really last minute," I say, and I begin to fumble over the words as I continue. "And I know I promised Masen and I would stop by tomorrow afternoon, and, well, I know you probably have plans but I remember you saying your parents were in Hawaii for the holidays, and I know it's kind of weird for me to ask you but-"

"Spit it out, Bella," he laughs and I take a deep breath.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come with Masen and I over to the Cullen's for Christmas dinner tomorrow night," I say, and I hold my breath as I wait for him to reply.

There is a pause, it's probably not very long but for some reason it seems to stretch on forever.

"Will there be turkey?" he asks, and I realize he's teasing.

"Probably more than you've seen in your life," I smile.

"Then absolutely, I'm in."

I let out a long breath. "Awesome."

"What time should I pick you guys up?" he asks.

"Oh, you don't have to -"

"But I will," he says cutting me off. And again I can practically hear the smile in his voice.

"I was thinking maybe we'd leave around three-thirty," I tell him, my compromise for Edward between afternoon and dinnertime.

"Three-thirty it is," he says. "I'll see you then."

"See you, Gare. I really appreciate it."

"Don't even worry about it," he says. "I appreciate the invite. Goodnight, Bella."

And I smile as I tell him, "Goodnight, Gare."

As I hang up the phone, I lock the front door and realize that today was just another day in his short life that I hope Masen never finds out about.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks to Kristina for beta-ing, and thanks to you all for reading!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6<span>

**Fall 2007**

****_-three & 3/4 years before the wedding-_

"Garrett! Did you take the cake out of the fridge yet?" I call towards the kitchen, trying to be heard over the voices and laughter of all our friends and family gathered in the living room. I'm chasing Masen around his bedroom, a fresh diaper and a pack of baby wipes under my arm. "Masen, baby, hold still for just one minute," I plead as he tries to roll out of my grasp. "Gare?" I yell again towards the open door.

"What're you hollerin' about in here?" Emmett pokes his head into the room as I toss Masen's soggy diaper aside and crawl after him as I try to wrangle the fresh one on.

"Someone's got to – Masen, just one second –" I pant, wincing in pain as I scamper after him on sore knees. "—Got to take the cake out of the fridge." I finally secure the diaper and Masen giggles at the faces Emmett is making. "Good lord, how many more years do I have to do this for?" I laugh as I collapse back on the floor, rubbing my hands over sore muscles as I watch Masen wobble away.

"You mean parenthood? Only another seventeen or so," Emmett grins as he scoops Masen up into his arms. "And when he comes home piss drunk at fifteen you'll be wishing for the simplicity of changing diapers. Now where are your pants at, Stinker?"

I roll my eyes as I toss him Masen's jeans and Emmett chuckles, "Yeah, 'where's my pants?' – that's what he'll be saying when he's seventeen and has some pretty brunette from down the street hiding in his closet. Isn't that right, little man?"

"You're really kind of a jerk, Em," I say, sitting back and laughing as I watch him attempt to direct a squirming Masen into the jeans.

"Jesus Christ, it's like trying to get Auntie Rose _out of _her pants," he mutters as Masen wiggles in his arms.

"Don't forget his socks," I say with a sly grin as I wrap up the dirty diaper and toss it in the garbage behind me.

"Are you kidding me? _Jeeesus_." But then he clears his throat, and I get that uncomfortable feeling that I always get whenever Emmett suddenly gets serious. It means he's got something on his mind and I know I'm probably not going to like it.

"Hey, um, so Bells," he glances at me sideways as he finally gets one of Masen's feet through the correct leg. "Being as it's kind of a milestone day for his first and only son and all that, has there been any word from that, uh, that long-lost brother of mine?"

I look down at my hands as my stomach churns uneasily.

We don't really talk about Edward anymore. He's in Europe somewhere, presumably, not that we'd really know for sure since no one has heard from him in months. The only reason that we believe he's not back in the States is because Rose found a picture online somewhere of Ty on a beach in France with his supermodel girlfriend in September, and it was reported that the band was spending some time there. But the number I used to be able to reach Edward at has been disconnected since the summer. I sigh and shake my head 'no' just as Masen reaches up and tugs on Emmett's ear.

"Hey! Those are attached, you little fart," Emmett laughs loudly as he swats Masen away. Emmett looks over at me again but doesn't say anything, because really, there's not much left to say.

"Hey, Em, you mind getting him in his highchair when you're finished?" I ask, relieved that there will be no further discussion on the topic of Edward. "I've gotta go get the cake ready."

"Em, Em, Em!" Masen repeats proudly.

"That's right, baby," I grin, crouching down next to my son. Emmett finally hikes up his pants and sets him down so he can wobble over to me. Masen reaches out and wraps his hand around my fingers for balance. "Can you go with Uncle Em and get in your chair so we can have some cake? Do you want some cake?"

"Maa," he coos.

I laugh and kiss his cheek. "Awe, close enough." I get to my feet and lead him over to Emmett so he can take his hand. "Go with Uncle Em and I'll be right back," I say and I wish Emmett luck as I sneak by him and make my way toward the kitchen. But before I have a chance to get very far, my father stops me in the hall.

"How you holdin' up, sweetie?" he asks, nodding subtly to the hoard of people jam-packed into my living room.

"I'm good," I tell Charlie. Admittedly, I probably should have taken Esme up on her offer to host the party at her and Carlisle's much roomier house, but for some reason I was insistent on having Masen's first birthday at home. Though I'm beginning to forget why it seemed like such a good idea. I run my fingers through my hair and look around. "At least, I will be when you tell me that someone had the brains to bring beer to this shindig. I could use a drink."

"You mean bring alcohol to a one-year-old's birthday party?" Charlie asks, raising his eyebrows in mock-horror. "Now, do you know your father at all? Of course I brought beer. It's in the fridge next to Esme's brownies. Which are amazing, by the way."

"Dad, you know you're not supposed to eat those yet!" I scold as I punch him jokingly on the shoulder. "And you've got chocolate on your mustache – you better get rid of the evidence before Esme sees and whoops your ass." I make a run for the kitchen as Charlie wipes frantically at his mouth with the back of his hand. I finally find Garrett there, and he's slipping Masen's vanilla racecar-themed cake out of its plain white box and onto on a platter on the island.

"Hey," he grins as I enter. "I figured I should probably get the cake out of the fridge if you want to eat it anytime soon."

"_Great_ idea," I laugh, and with my back to him I yank open the cupboard where we keep the medicine and grab the bottle of Advil that sits at the front. I shake a couple into my palm and slide the bottle back into its place.

"What?" he chuckles at my sarcastic tone. "What's the matter? You have a headache?" he asks with concern when he watches me dry swallow two pills.

"Naw, I'm just a little sore – probably from lugging Masen all around the mall all day yesterday. The kid cannot sit still." I shake my head as I pull open the fridge and grab two cold beers from inside. I stick them under my arm and quickly re-arrange Esme's plate of brownies so she won't be able to tell that some are missing as I pull it out of the fridge and set it on the counter. I pass one of the beers to Garrett as I nudge the fridge door shut with my hip and stand on my tiptoes for a kiss.

"Okay," he says, pulling me into his arms as he eyes search my face. "I hope that helps. It's looking like we're in for a long afternoon." And for a minute the noise and chaos around us subsides as I lean into his embrace. Garrett's got his forehead pressed to mine as his hands work their way slowly up and down my back.

"You're not kidding," I sigh at the relief his mini-massage brings. "And did you see all those presents in there? We're going to need a bigger place if we plan on keeping all of that."

"Or Masen could just have our room," he grins. "He's got more stuff than us anyway."

"Yeah, never gonna happen," I laugh as I pull away and twist the top off my beer. "Momma needs her space, too."

"Hey, guys," I turn to the sound of Rose's voice coming from the entryway to the kitchen. "Are you two lovebirds gonna wrap it up anytime soon? Carlisle's now decided he wants a picture of Masen with every single one of the presents he got today. He's is going to run out of film if we don't get a move on."

"Maybe because he's the only person in the universe who still uses film for pictures," I snort.

"Hey, I am not!" Carlisle appears behind Rose. "Don't you know all the pros still use film? It's authentic, not like that digital crap you kids mess around with these days. Now come on, say 'cheese' you two." Garrett throws his arm over my shoulder as Carlisle aims his ancient silver and black SLR at us. We cheers our beers and laugh as Carlisle snaps the photo.

I take a long pull of my beer. "You ready?" I ask, turning to Garrett.

He's watching me with an amused grin on his face. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"All right, let's do this," I say, grabbing the plate of brownies as Garrett heaves the cake off the counter and we bring it all to the dining area. Emmett's already got Masen in his high chair and is wrestling to get a Hawks bib secured around his neck while Charlie supervises. People are laughing and joking and snapping photos as they begin to gather around the table and Garrett slides a big '1' candle through the icing and lights it. Masen reaches for the plastic racecar on the cake as we all sing him Happy Birthday and I blow out the candle for him at the end. Unexpected tears fill my eyes as my family and friends clap and cheer and Garrett slices through the cake. I kiss the top of Masen's head and run my hand over his hair. "Happy birthday, baby," I whisper in his ear. "I love you."

And in all the chaos he just looks up at me and smiles a toothy little smile, like he knows, he _knows _just how much he means to me.

There's a quiet knock on the door that interrupts the moment. When Garrett looks up our eyes meet. "Who's that?" he practically mouths as he slides a piece of cake onto an empty plate and passes it down the line.

"Dunno," I shrug, glancing around the party to see who might be missing. "I told Mrs. Boyd to stop by last week, maybe it's her. I'll go check it out," I say. It would make sense – I'm fairly certain that Mrs. Boyd, our elderly neighbor, has never been on time for anything in her entire life. When we invited her over for Easter brunch last spring, she showed up around dinnertime. I excuse myself to greet the latecomer and I take a sip of my beer as I make my way to the entrance. When I yank open the door, I do a triple-take.

I hold the back of my hand to my mouth as I practically choke on my mouthful of beer. "_Edward?"_ I sputter in disbelief once I've swallowed. "What are you…" my voice trails off and I just stand there with my mouth hanging open.

He's got a look of shock on his face, which I image mirrors my own, as he takes in the scene happening in the dining room behind me. And we stand frozen in the doorway for a moment before things begin to move forward again. My formally chaotically noisy apartment has fallen nearly silent as guests begin to notice the unexpected visitor standing awkwardly in the entry. A look of sadness, and then betrayal cross his face as he spots his mother, his father, his brother and his friends all gathered in my apartment for his son's first birthday. He's got a gift box under his arm and his hands are bawled tightly into fists and I watch as he wordlessly drops his gift to the floor and takes a step back, out of the apartment.

"Edward -" I finally speak, but he shakes his head, turns his back, and walks away.

I remain rooted in place and I consider, for only half a split-second, not going after him. After all, he's the one who took off last Christmas, he's the one who hasn't been here in nearly a year, and he's the one who hasn't called in months. But I realize that with his entire family in my living room, someone is bound to go chase him down. Rose and Emmett will kick his ass, Esme will only cry, and Carlisle… well, Carlisle will probably just take pictures or some shit. And I figure that out of every person in attendance, it might as well be me that follows him through that door.

"Edward, _wait_." I leave my drink on the table inside the door and rush to follow him into the hall, and don't look back as I close the door tightly behind me. I grab a hold of the sleeve of his jacket to stop him and pull on it so he's half-facing me. "What are you doing here?" I ask, unable to conceal the utter bewilderment in my voice. Because it's been a long damn time since I've seen him.

His eyes are still fixed over my shoulder, like he can see all of our friends and family gathered in our old apartment through the wall behind me. And when he finally looks at me, his face is like stone and his eyes are narrowed angrily. "Honestly, Bella? I don't even know right now. But it's pretty obvious I'm not welcome."

"Edward, that's not it – _Jesus Christ_ – I haven't heard from you in _months_. How the hell was I supposed to know you were back in town?"

His anger softens slightly as he shrugs. "I thought… I just realized how long it's been, and we just got back into the country two nights ago. And I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, mission accomplished," I say, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. "But where have you been, Edward? You haven't checked in since _June_. And you haven't seen Masen since… since _Christmas_." I feel a surge of anger rising in my chest and it takes me by surprise.

"I know," he says, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "I meant to call, I really did, but I've just been _so _busy-"

"Do you know he walks now?" I ask, cutting him off. "And that he can say 'mom' and 'ball' and he can even say your own brother's name? You missed seeing him roll over and crawl and laugh for the first time. You missed his first steps and his first words and his first haircut and now you just show up here after almost a year like everything's all good? Because it's _not_. Edward, you missed _so_ much!" I haven't meant to get emotional, but my voice begins to sound borderline hysterical and I take a few deep breaths as I run my fingers through my hair. And I don't even realize I am carrying so much resentment towards him until it's out there.

"Do you even have any idea what your son even looks like, Edward? That he has my eyes and your friggin stupid mess of hair? You wouldn't even recognize him, and you know what? You're nothing more than a stranger to him! He has no idea who his own father is!"

"Bell-" Edward reaches out to put his hand on my arm but I pull away. The door to the apartment opens slowly and I look up as Garrett hesitantly steps out into the hall.

"Hey, um," I watch as his eyes dart nervously over to Edward before settling on my gaze. "Everything okay?"

I shake my head slightly and let out a long breath. Edward has his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw is hard as he looks between Garrett and I. "You kidding me?" he spits out as the tension reaches its peak.

"Edward-"

"No, screw this," he says angrily, his glare fixed on Garrett. "Couldn't be a rock star so you do the next best thing and steal a rock star's girl? Really classy, Anderson."

"_Edward!" _I hiss through clenched teeth. "I am not _your_ anything besides the mother of your child! You're being absurd!"

"You're being absurd!" he shoots back. "What, are you trying to replace me with _him?_ When you guys showed up at Christmas together last year I thought maybe you were trying to make a statement or some shit, but this ridiculous."

"Stop it," I grind out. "Just… stop it. You need to wrap your head around the fact that life moves forward, even when you're out on the road. Things change and Garrett and I happened, and it has nothing to do with you. And right now I have an apartment full of people here to celebrate my son's first birthday, and I'm not letting you ruin this."

"He's _our_ son, Bella. In case you've forgotten."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who's forgotten that."

Garrett clears his throat awkwardly from the doorway as a tense silence falls between us. Looking uneasily between Edward and I, Garrett says, "Look, you guys obviously need to sit down and talk, but right now isn't the most opportune time. But maybe if you two think you can be civil for a few, why don't you come inside and see your friends and family and your son." Garrett hesitates on the last part but I can tell he's trying to be the bigger person in all of this. "I'm sure… it'd be good for him to see you."

I'm still so angry that I'm shaking and I cut in, "No, it's not. Because when's the next time Masen's going to see him again? On his second birthday, maybe? You can't just walk in and out of his life like that, Edward. I honestly didn't even know if I would ever see you again."

Edward glares at me. "I was on tour," he grinds out. "You knew that."

"That's bull," I spit. "Your tour ended in July, and I know that for a fact. And in case you haven't noticed, it's currently _November_. I think you're missing a few months somewhere."

He clenches his jaw and I can tell he's fight to keep his voice calm. "We've been recording in London, Bella. And I took some time for myself, so that when I came back here I'd be the father that Masen deserves. Because in case you've forgotten, you're the one that demanded I get my shit together before I showed up here again."

"And what? They don't have phones in London?" I scoff. I'm so close to snapping again that I close my eyes and rub my forehead, trying to calm down. And once again my anger takes me by surprise. I've tried very hard not to think about Edward the past while. After Masen's first Christmas, I truly believed that he was going to make more of an effort to be a part of Masen's life. But he just lost contact for so long that I was beginning to think he'd simply forgotten about us. Even his own parents haven't heard from him in months. And I tried to put him out of my mind, tried not to imagine where he could possibly be or what he could be doing as I changed diapers and washed dishes and cooked dinners and got out of bed in the middle of the night with a bottle for Masen. And I did pretty well – only had one breakdown over the summer, when I heard a Black Velvet Kings song on the local radio station for the very first time. I can still remember pulling my car over onto the shoulder of the road and weeping as Masen slept peacefully in his car seat in the back. It was a song I'd never heard before, but the words and the way he sang them made me believe, if only for a moment, that he hadn't forgotten about us after all. But after weeks of still not hearing from him I knew I just had to be reading too far into things.

When I open my eyes, I lock them on Edward's. "Are you clean?" I ask bluntly.

"Yes," he insists, his gaze not wavering from mine. "I swear, Bell."

"Good," I say sincerely. I turn as I hear the apartment door open again, and this time it's Emmett who sticks his head through the door. He doesn't move from the threshold, and doesn't speak as he leans on the doorframe and takes in his brother standing in the hall. Edward's face has turned stony again and he can't meet Emmett's eyes. Both brothers have their guard up and the air is stiff between them.

"You coming in?" Emmett kind of grunts, but he can't seem to take his eyes off Edward, like if he looks away he'll disappear.

Edward shakes his head, his gaze fixed somewhere over Emmett's left shoulder. "Not right now."

"Mom—"

Edward cuts him off before he can get the words out, his gaze finally snapping to meet Emmett's. "Just go back inside, Emmett."

"Whatever, bro," Emmett sighs, shaking his head. He looks over to Garrett and I, a pained smile playing on his lips. "Masen destroyed his cake. Mom wants to give him a bath, but I figured you might want to see him first. He's even got icing stuck between his toes somehow."

I smile sadly, feeling angry and disappointed that I missed Masen's first attempt at eating cake. At least I know I can count on Grandpa Carlisle to have the event well documented. "I'll be right in," I tell Emmett softly with a tear in my eye.

I glance over at Edward to see how words about his son have affected him, but he's just got his arms crossed rigidly over his chest and his gaze is fixed somewhere down the hall, looking uncomfortable and lost.

"Why don't you go back in, Gare?" I offer as Emmett disappears back inside the apartment. "One of us should probably be in there playing host."

"Sure," he nods, smiling gently at me. He hesitates as he leans in for a kiss, and his lips land somewhere near my forehead instead. He doesn't even acknowledge Edward before he goes back inside.

"Does he _live_ here?" Edward asks, watching Garrett leave with a scowl on his face.

"Yes, Edward," I sigh, beginning to feel like I'm addressing a child.

He grumbles a bit and looks like there's more that he wants to say, but he doesn't press it further. I let out a long breath as I watch him. And I'm feeling frustrated – I'm not used to our relationship being so difficult. I hate the tension between us and I hate being angry with him and I find myself longing for the days when things between us were simple.

"You should have called," I mutter angrily.

"I didn't realize you'd need warning that I was stopping by my own apartment."

"You don't live here anymore." My voice is hard when I speak. "And I'm not talking about just today. I mean you should have called sometime in the past five months. Do you even know how worried we've all been? Do you have any idea?"

And for the first time, he begins to show a glimmer of remorse. "I know. I just didn't think, Bell. I'm sorry."

"You mother has been sick over all this," I continue, and I realize I'm not the only one whose promises he broke. "We can't even talk about you around her anymore or she's in tears. You don't realize what you're doing to the people you left behind. Maybe you've got the band now, and a lot more fans, but they're still your family. We all are."

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath, shaking his head. "I don't know what you want me to say, Bell."

"Don't _say _anything. Fix it while you still can."

His eyes are on the door behind me again. "Can I?" he asks quietly. "Can it still be fixed?"

I just shake my head. "I can't speak for everyone, but I know that Masen will love you if you let him. If you _try_. But if you don't, one day he's going to realize the choices you've made and he will hate you for it. And there's nothing I can do about that. He's amazing, Edward. And don't forget that at one point in your life, not even that long ago, you wanted this, too."

"I still do," he insists. "It's just a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"Because you're not even _trying_, Edward. You need to make an effort to come back here and see him. You need to make an effort to get to know him. He's not going to know who you are simply because you're his father. And nothing's ever easy around here, trust me."

Silence falls between us and I can still he's really thinking about what I've just said. And I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest and just watch him. He looks better than he did that last time he showed up here, but he's still skin and bones, and he still looks like he doesn't get enough sleep. And I can see that this pains him – the realization that not everything comes to him as easily as he's used to.

"I think about you guys all the time," he says quietly. "And I get it. I've been a complete fuck-up for Masen's entire life, and I get that. He deserves so much better, but I will be better, Bell. I promise you."

And there they are; those three words I loathe hearing from him. The words that hold about as much merit as a contract written in the sand. And I think he can see that I don't believe him.

"Look, I'm in town for a week," he says. "I know it's not very long, but do you think maybe we could do something tomorrow? I'd like to give Masen his present, and I _do_ want to get to know him, Bella. We can start out slow. But I'm not lying when I say you're both always on my mind."

I let out a long breath as I deliberate. "If it's not raining, he loves the park," I offer.

Edward nods slowly. "That'd be nice."

"Call me tomorrow," I tell him. "And no more surprises."

I finally see the first a hint of a smile. "No more surprises," he agrees.

"And Edward? Don't you dare hurt him. He may be just a kid, but he needs you."

He nods solemnly. "I know."

"Okay," I sigh. "I'd better get back in there."

"Sure," he says. "Can you maybe bring my present tomorrow? I'd really like to see him open it."

I nod and move to go back into the apartment, but he stops me again.

"And Bell?"

I turn. "Yeah?"

"Tell my mom I'll call her tonight."

I can't describe the relief that washes over me with those words. "Don't forget," I warn him.

"I won't," he promises.

And I feel the first real spark of hope for him when I find out from a tearful Esme later that night that it's the first promise in a long time that he actually keeps.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hey guys - I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've missed you all! And I was going to send this chapter off to be re-beta'd because I kind of added a little (okay, like a _ton_) to the original version, and then decided to post it because it's been so long since I've updated. So all mistakes are mine (Sorry Kristina, you're the best!)

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><p><span>Chapter 7<span>

**Fall 2008**

****_-two & 3/4 years before the wedding-_

I have tears on my face by the time Rose answers the phone with a lazy "Yallo?"

I know that voice. It's her _I'm watching The Hills so fuck right off _voice.

I don't even greet her. My voice shakes as I speak. "Turn on the radio."

A switch flips. Suddenly she sounds wide-awake. "Bella? What's going on?"

"Turn on the radio," I repeat, clutching a bottle of red wine in my lap as I stare across the room at the giant entertainment center that takes up half my living room. I'm so upset that I'm vibrating and I'm crying – I'm actually _crying_.

I can hear her scrambling to get to her stereo and I wait until I hear the music in background, and now it's all around me - in her ear, in my ear, in my living room, in my head. I hear a sharp intake of breath over the phone as she listens. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yep." I glance over my shoulder and drink the wine straight from the bottle.

"That _son of a bitch_," she hisses. I flop back onto the couch. I know I've called the right person.

"I can't believe him right now," I grind out, my teeth clenched in anger. I swat the tears off of my cheeks with trembling fingers. "I just – I can't – I don't even know what the _hell_, Ro. It's _my _song," I wail. I drink more wine, and I know I'm being a child and I don't care. Because he _promised._

I was sixteen when he played me this song for the first time. I was sixteen when he looked me in the eyes and told me that no matter what happened to us in the future, no matter where life took us, that this would always be my song. _Our_ song. He promised me that no matter what became of us, we would always have this piece of each other. Because the song is _us_, wholly and completely. It's paperclip necklaces and French toast dinners and fragile sandcastles and getting lost in the woods. It's kisses in the basement and cherry-red bicycles and having faith that love is stronger than distance and time. It's about two souls bonded forever with the promise to face life together and to hold on 'till the bitter end. It's the good and bad, the past and the future – it's everything about us wrapped up in one beautiful little song. And I'm hurt that something so personal and something that means so much to me can be so easily released by him simply for public consumption.

Like it never meant anything to him at all.

"He never said anything to you last weekend when he came to see Mase?" Rose asks.

"No. He didn't say _anything._" Reminded of my son, I twist in my seat on the couch and peer down the hall and listen. Silence. I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. Then I inhale another gulp of wine.

"That slimy son of a bitch," Rose repeats and I can almost hear her cracking her knuckles, preparing to kick some ass. "I'm sorry, Bella. I never, in a million years, thought he'd do that to you. If that was some dumbass move to get you back, it sure backfired."

"You think that's what this is?" I squeak.

"No," she backpedals, "I'm sure it's his way of getting a rise out of you. Show you that song doesn't mean _that_ to him anymore, and he's over you and all that retarded guy shit."

"I hate him," I say, my voice low. I don't really mean it, but it hurts and he _knew_ it would.

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with him, B."

I feel the knot in my stomach, and Rose isn't helping. I drink more wine as the song ends. And it's all wrong. His voice isn't the same, the drums aren't supposed to be like that, his guitar is too loud. It's too manufactured; too fake. It's coming from the speakers when it should be coming from the man sitting cross-legged on the grass across from me, raw and acoustic, his voice soft and shy as he pours out his soul in the only way he knows how.

_No more surprises_, I can hear his voice promising me.

So much for that.

"People are going to eat this song up," Rose says softly from the other end, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't mean to say it out loud and _goddamn_ it stings.

Then she clears her throat, like she knew she said the wrong thing. "So how is rock star Cullen, anyway?" she asks.

I know she's trying really hard to sound nonchalant. I wonder if Emmett is there next to her, watching her, waiting desperately for her reaction to my answer. Even though Edward is basically her brother-in-law, she still has to ask. Because Emmett and Edward, well, they don't talk much anymore.

"He's good," I sigh as I tell her. "Though he might not be when I get through with him."

She lets out a soft laugh. "But he's doing okay?"

I nod and then when I realize that she can't see me over the phone I say, "Yeah."

"And you let him take Masen? I mean, you're sure you can trust him?" she asks. And oh Rose, never one to beat around the bush.

"He's been nothing but amazing with Masen, Ro. We're taking it slow but deep down, he's still just Edward. I still know him." I close my eyes and snort at how ironic those words sound in this moment. But the time that Edward spends with Masen and I never fails to renew my hope in him. In those rare moments he reminds me of the Edward I knew, the boy from down the street that I fell in love with. And we don't discuss the first year of Masen's life, the year when he thought we'd all lost Edward for good. He's come a long way since then. He's still away a lot and he still doesn't see Masen as much as he'd like, but he tries. He really does.

And Edward loves that boy. God, he loves that boy.

But it doesn't change the anger and hurt I feel bubbling in my chest or erase the dried tear-tracks that line my cheeks. I drink more wine in an attempt to smother the emotions, but it doesn't seem to help.

"I'll kick his ass next time I see him, Bells," Rose vows.

I fall back onto the couch cushions. "It is a good song, right?"

"They all are."

And yeah, dammit, she's right. They're the kind of songs that get stuck in your head for weeks, ones you find yourself bookmarking the lyrics to because they're just so damn moving. Their songs are the ones with words that you play over and over again in your head, trying to decipher just what exactly it is they're singing about. And sometimes I wish that BVK didn't have to be so damn good, because it'd be a lot easier to get him out of my head if they weren't.

But that's probably not even true.

"You know what? Screw this. I'm calling him," I declare suddenly, sitting up straight on the couch and what little wine is left in the bottle swishes around with the motion.

"Umm… Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Rose asks, and all of a sudden she sounds very alert.

"Why not?" I've already got my address book pulled out from the coffee table and I'm clumsily thumbing through it to find the last number Edward left me to reach him at.

"Because if I know you, you're already a bottle of wine deep and drinking straight from the bottle. And where's Garrett?"

"You make me sound like a raging alcoholic," I tell her, triumphantly freeing a piece of paper with a phone number printed on it in Edward's writing. "And Gare's playing poker tonight."

"Bella…" she sighs. "Why don't you at least wait until morning?"

"Sorry, Ro. But I'm doing this now," I say quickly. "Masen's in bed and Garrett's not home and I'm pissed off and I'm doing this now."

"B, come on. Do you just want me to come over for a bit? We can drink more wine and bitch about boys and you can give him a piece of your mind once you've calmed down a little."

"I'm doing this now, before I chicken out," I tell her. "Sorry, but I have to know. I love you though and I'll call you tomorrow." I hang up the phone quickly before she can say anything else to try and thwart my plan. And I don't even pause to let myself think before I punch at the number he's written into the keypad of my phone and press 'send.'

It rings so many times that I'm certain he's not going to pick up. I begin plotting an angry voicemail and glance at the clock to see that it's hardly midnight in L.A. and I'm positive he has to still be awake. I don't let my mind wander or wonder what it is he could be doing as the phone rings and rings and rings. I simply stare across the room and let my anger resonate, and the phone seems to ring to the beat of the song as his voice echoes in my mind. And then finally, finally, after I'm about to give up, I heard a small 'click' of someone picking up the line and I'm greeted by the gritty, distorted sound of loud music and voices in my ear.

_ "Hello?" _he shouts, trying to be heard over the loud background noise. I instinctively jerk the phone away from my head and wince. _"Hello?"_ he repeats again before I even get a chance to open my mouth to reply.

"Edward?" I say before he can yell into my ear once more. I fight not to shout back into the receiver.

There's a pause and then he hollers, _"Bell? Is that you? Hang on a second." _

I hear rustling over the line and muffled voices that are probably yelling over the sound of the music. The blaring sounds coming over the line are a sharp contrast to the silence of my home. I sit back onto the couch, impatiently waiting as the voices and music in the background slowly fade as I assume he's finding some place quiet.

"Hey," he says finally, sounding breathless but he's finally able to speak at a normal volume. "Bell? You still there?"

"Still here," I reply shortly.

"I'm really sorry about that," he apologizes. "I didn't even realize I had my phone with me. But what's up? Is everything okay? How's Masen?"

"Where are you?" I ask, suddenly feeling dazed by his fury of questions.

"At a CD release party. Well, I was there but I was about to leave anyway. I just got to my car."

"Oh," is all I can say.

"So…" he clears his throat awkwardly, and suddenly I remember my reason for calling. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, no. Actually, no, it's not," I clarify, sitting up straighter on the couch and grabbing the bottle of wine for courage.

There's an edge of panic to his voice. "What's going on? Is it Mase-"

"Masen's fine," I say, cutting him off. "But I just heard the most interesting thing on the radio."

"Oh?" he asks hesitantly. I can tell he's uncomfortable and surprised by the direction this conversation is headed.

"Yeah, it was a song that I heard, actually."

"Okay…"

"You might know it," I continue. "It was a song that someone wrote for me when I was sixteen. It never really did have a name but for now let's just call it _Edward's a Fucking Liar-_"

"-_Bella_."

"Oh, so you're just gonna come out and name it after me, now? Well I guess that's fitting."

"Bella," he repeats, his voice sounding pained. I give him a moment to explain himself and finally he quietly says, "I'm so sorry."

"You're _sorry?_ Edward, you promised me you'd never release that song. That was – that was," I take a deep breath and try to gather my thoughts. "That was _ours_."

"I know, Bell. But I really am sorry," he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. "I truly didn't intend for it to happen."

I scoff at his words as I shake my head. "How does something like that happen _accidently_? Do you have _any _idea how it felt for me to hear that?" My voice begins to crack with emotion and I swallow hard, trying to remain bitter and mad instead of pathetic and sad. "I felt like you sold us out. Like all it is to you anymore is a way to sell another trillion albums and buy yourself another fancy fucking sports car. I always thought you had more class than that, Edward. But I guess I was wrong about that too."

"Bell," he pleads. "That's not what it was about at all. Just hear me out, okay?"

"Why should I?" I spit back. "So you can tell more lies and then try and ease the guilt by going and writing another song about much of a fuck-up you are? Don't think I don't hear all your songs, Edward. I've never said shit about it, but this one hurts more than the rest."

He silent on the other side of the line, and god, I just wish I could see his face. I wish I could see if he's truly upset or if he's just trying to think of a way to spin his next lie. And I just wish I could go back to the days when I trusted him, back to when I could believe every word he said. Back to when he didn't lie or break promises, because it seems like the past few years have been nothing but a game to him. It's one step forward and two steps back with him and we never seem to get anywhere but mad.

And then I want to pound my head against the coffee table when I realize I've quoted one of his songs to myself.

I set the wine back on the coffee table and fall back into the couch cushions. He's in my head and in the air around me and I'm beginning to wonder if he'll always be. If it'll always be the way for us.

Edward clears his throat and I nearly jump out of my skin, because I've almost forgotten that not only is he in my head, but he's on the other end of the telephone as well.

"The guys heard me playing it one day when I was hanging out in my hotel room…" he begins, his voice quiet. "And they thought it might be kind of cool to lay it down, see how it sounded. I swear I only agreed because I figured it might be a neat gift for you and Masen one day. But the producers loved it and the next thing I knew it ended up on the album…" He lets out a long breath over the line. "But I had no idea they were releasing it as a single, Bell. I would have warned you."

I absentmindedly play with the drawstring on my pajamas and I don't speak for a long time. He remains silent as well, and the only sound I can here is the background noise of the road as he navigates the L.A. streets. I close my eyes and for a moment I'm there in the passenger seat beside him, with the windows down and my fingers threading through the cool breeze as we wind down unfamiliar roads. I can almost feel his gaze on me, the burning in his eyes as he looks at me in a way that no one else ever has, and probably ever will. And I can feel my anger fading as let out a long breath. "You could have at least asked me before you recorded it," I say finally, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

"I wrote the song, Bella. I didn't think I needed your permission."

"But it's about _me_."

"Bell," he sighs. "Don't you know they're all about you?"

Silence falls over the line once more, and my gaze is fixed across the room as I try to pretend I didn't hear the words he just said. I slide down the couch and lay horizontally, pulling a throw pillow over my face and wedging the phone between my ear and the cushion. The road noise in the background has stopped and I can hear him addressing someone else on the other end of the phone, his voice sounding muffled like he's covering the mouthpiece. When I'm sure he's back on the line, I yawn as I ask, "Who was that?"

"My doorman," he explains. "I just got back to my apartment."

"Oh." I hear a _dinging_ in the background and I assume it's his elevator. I realize this should be the natural end to our conversation – I've gotten my answers and he's had a chance to explain himself. And for the past year, this is how it would end – we'd say good-bye, he's promise to come visit the first chance he got, and he'd call to talk to Masen when he could. We don't have conversations without fighting and anger or discussing something that doesn't involve our son. But there's something in the air tonight – and I know it's probably the wine – but for a moment I just want to hear his voice. That's why, instead of saying good-bye, I ask him, "So how are you liking L.A.?"

He hesitates, and I feel like maybe the same thing is running through his head. And I don't know if he's even alone or if he's actually where he says he is, but just for tonight I pretend I'm talking to the old Edward. And just for tonight, I choose to believe him.

"I don't mind it," he says finally. "Sometimes I miss Washington though. Everything here is… bright. And things are too perfect, you know? Nothing feels authentic."

"Like, the people?" I ask, confused by his answer. He laughs loudly in response.

"Especially the people. They all look like tall, skinny Oompa Loompa's."

I grin into the pillow and tuck my hair behind my ear. "So what you're saying is that they look nothing at all like Oompa Loompa's?"

He laughs again and I smile in response. "Well, they're orange."

"I see," I giggle. "You could have just said that."

"Oh, shut up," he says, and I can hear the sound of a door opening and closing and I assume he's entering his apartment.

"No, it just gets me sometimes – the fact that you manage to write these amazing songs and yet you can hardly speak coherently ninety-nine percent of the time." I smile as I tease him but it's the truth. He's never been exactly eloquent when it came to expressing himself verbally, but somehow in his songs he becomes a completely different person. It's like the moment a pen and paper is placed in front of him he transforms into an insightful being that can somehow string words together that have the power to shake your world. I wonder how many people meet him and wonder if he's truly the man behind the music. If I didn't know better, I'd question it myself.

"You know, you're hilarious," he says, but I can hear the laughter in his voice and if I close my eyes I can imagine him kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. I know that next he'll go to the fridge…

"But you know how it is…" he says. "Sometimes it's just easier to say it to a crowd."

"Yeah, I guess," I agree, though I actually have no idea what he's talking about. "So when do you guys head out on tour again?"

He lets out a long breath and I smile to myself when I hear the sound of glass bottles clanking against one another as he digs around in the refrigerator. "January. We're just doing all the major stops in North America so it'll be a relatively short one."

"Oh, right. Rose was saying tickets went on sale here yesterday."

"Yeah -" his voice breaks off for a second. "You coming?" he asks, and I'm puzzled by the sounds I hear on the other side of the line until I realize he's changing his shirt.

I try not to imagine that part.

"Uh." I clear my throat and it takes me a second to remember what he's asked me. "It's Charlie's birthday that weekend, so we're heading to Forks," I tell him. I don't mention the fact that I highly doubt I'd be able to bring myself to go to one of his shows.

"That's too bad," he says, and his disappointment seems genuine. "I've got connections, you know. Could probably even get you backstage." I can hear his grin over the phone.

"_Wow_," I swoon, clutching the phone to my ear. "Backstage at a Black Velvet Kings show? Golly gee, I would just _die."_

"Hey, now. Don't belittle the experience. You have no idea what some people would do to get their hands on backstage passes."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea."

"Why? Because you used to be one of those people?" he sniggers.

"Go to hell, Cullen," I laugh. "Seriously. I think this whole rock star thing might be going to your head."

"Naw, that's why I keep you and Masen around. Keeps me grounded." He tries to play if off as a joke but I can hear the sincerity in his tone. I snuggle down deeper into the couch, his words warming my heart.

"Masen asked for you today," I tell him as I yawn into the pillow. "Well, actually, he pointed at the laptop and called it 'Dad,' but I'm pretty sure that means he wanted to see you. We'll have to Skype again soon."

"Oh god, the kid thinks a computer is his father? That's going to be an awkward conversation for you, Bell," Edward chuckles. "But yeah, that'd be great actually. I have meetings tomorrow morning, but I should be back around dinnertime if that works for you guys?"

"We'll be here," I tell him as I try to suppress another yawn.

"You tired?" he asks, and it's obvious I didn't hide my yawn as well as I thought I did.

"Always," I reply with a sleepy smile.

"Well it is like three hours past your bedtime, you know," he jokes.

"That's funny, Cullen," I say drily. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"That's funny, Swan," he retorts, mimicking my tone. "I didn't know you had a... uh. I didn't know you had… Um…"

"Just stop!" I beg, laughing loudly. "Please, please stop. It was a solid try, but no. Just, no."

"I really need to start writing some jokes down," he mutters.

"Yeah because that's where you'll find your calling – in comedy," I roll my eyes. "You need to come to terms with the fact that you're just not that funny."

"Never," he gasps in faux-shock.

I laugh. "I really should get going, though. Apparently Masen's decided that this week six a.m. is the new time we should all be getting out of bed."

"Really too bad I have to miss that," Edward says with laughter in his voice.

"Oh, don't worry. I've decided that from the age of thirteen and on, he's all yours."

"Pffft. Awesome. Teenagers are the best."

"Teenagers are the _worst_. We were the worst."

He pauses like he's thinking about it. "Yeah, we kind of were, huh?"

"Yeah," I grin.

Edward lets out kind of a groan, like he's stretching, and I can just see him sitting on the end of his bed, shirtless and barefoot, with the phone pressed to his ear. "Well, despite the fact that I'm sure you called to rip me a new one, it was nice talking to you tonight, Bell."

I smile into the phone. "You too, Edward. And I'm sorry if maybe I overreacted-"

"You didn't," he says firmly. "I get it. I mean… maybe I thought you wouldn't care since there's no more _us_, but I get that it's more than that. I'd feel the same way too. I really should have given you a heads up, regardless. And though I'm sure you have to be tired of hearing me apologize – I really am sorry. And I won't ever do something like that to you again."

I let out a soft breath, still trying to wrap my head around the direction this conversation's gone, but feeling oddly content nonetheless. Though that could also still be the effects of the alcohol.

"I appreciate that - " I start to say but I hear the sound of keys in the door and I nearly send the phone flying as I bolt upright on the couch.

"Edward, shit. I'm sorry - I gotta go," I say quickly.

"But-"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I tell him. "Skype."

I can hear him calling out a bewildered 'good-night' as I hang up the phone with shaking hands and almost drop it to the floor. And when I hear the door open I do the only thing that seems to make sense: I sprawl out on the couch, throw my arm over my face, and I pretend to be asleep. Garrett's home, but I have _his _song stuck in my head. But it's not his song. It's my song and it's not the ridiculous radio version it's the gritty voice of a teenager as he sits in the grass and promises a girl he'll love her forever.

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><p><strong>AN: **I know some of you have been waiting, and next chapter we will finally catch up with what's happening behind that church ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Summer 2011**

_-present day-_

There's a bench behind the church and it isn't empty. And I start breathing again. It's not what I'm expecting but for some reason I feel relieved, because it's better than nothing. It's better than believing a song he wrote for me wasn't for me at all. And it's better than him changing his mind and deciding he was the one who made a mistake.

The bench isn't empty. And although he's not here I can tell he was. It's just a small, flat box in his place, but as I edge towards the box sitting harmlessly on that bench, I know it's not _just _a box. The box is innocent enough. Whatever it contains? Not so much.

I don't know what it means. I don't know if this is his good-bye or if it's something more.

And there's a small, small part of me that's willing to admit what I really hope it is.

I sit down and look around. I don't touch the box sitting next to me. I simply look around as if being back here is the most normal thing I can be doing. There is no one around. No movement. No windows facing back here. No one. And slowly, shaking, I edge toward the box and nudge off the lid. A piece of loose-leaf paper folded in half sits on top. So I lift the paper and I read:

_Bella, _

_You know, it's funny that I'm supposed to be the one who is good with words. I write, I speak, I sing… my words are my livelihood. But for some reason, around you, I just never know what to say. The wrong words always seem to come spilling out at all the wrong times. And for some reason I thought this would be easier if I wrote it down, but the words still aren't coming. _

_Finding the right words – that's the trick. You wouldn't believe the amount of people in my life that try and tell me what to say and when to say it. Because saying something you don't mean or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time can ruin a person. It can ruin careers, relationships, and reputations. It can take your life in a direction you never meant for it to go. And words are impossible to erase. Once it's out there, there's no going back. But do you know what's even more significant than the words you say? It's the words you don't say – they're ones that can leave you suspended in a moment forever. They have the power to paint a bright future with dark lines of regret. When you have a chance to say something substantial and you let the moment pass you by, the words you don't say can be far more consequential and life altering than the ones you do. And that's what this moment is – it's my time. My chance. And I'm tired of letting these words go unsaid. _

_ I've spent days praying that your eyes see this before it's too late. But I guess if you're reading this you got my message. I know it's cruel to put it in a song but sometimes it's the only way I can get you to listen. Masen promised me he'd make sure you'd hear it, but I like to think you would have anyway. I just – _

"Bella?"

And I jump about ten damn feet because I'm engrossed in his words and I'm just _not _expecting him. My hand covers my chest, feels my heart pounding under my palm, and I look up. "Jesus _Christ_," I gasp. "You scared the living shit out of me, Edward."

He smiles apologetically, a gentle smile that spreads smooth as butter across his face. It's been a very long time since I've last seen him, but he looks well. Rested. Relaxed. He's put on a little weight but it's healthy weight he desperately needed. He's wearing a button-up shirt and a nice pair of jeans and I can't help but wonder if this is his way of dressing up. And his eyes are on me and he's looking at me in a way that no one else does. That look makes me feel loved, from my head to my toes, inside and out. I'm warm and he's here and…

"I'm getting married." I say it out loud. The words stick in my mouth like a spoonful of peanut butter.

His face crumples, like the church and the ring and the dress and the fact that he's here right now weren't all big enough clues. "I see that."

"I didn't think you'd come," I whisper. And maybe I'm saying the words to him, or maybe I'm saying them to me.

His eyes meet mine. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans. "I didn't think _you _would."

"I just…" And like him, I'm at a loss for words. But I'm back here and clearly it means something. I hold up the letter. "Why'd you write this?"

He looks embarrassed, and his shoulders kind of hunch up in a way that reminds me of when we were kids. He takes a seat on the other side of the bench, setting the box at his feet. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his head tilted towards me. "I was so terrified you wouldn't come," he breathes, and a pained expression crosses his face like he's replaying that notion over and over again in his mind. "I didn't think I could stay and face that. And… I wanted to make sure I said everything I needed to. "

"But?"

"But I had to know. If I had a chance."

And it doesn't feel _real. _The man that I've seen a handful of times in the last five years is here, at my wedding, asking me if he has a chance. The father of my son. My first love. And I know time is running out, but I can't walk away.

"You look… _amazing_," he murmurs, his eyes on me and a look on his face like he couldn't look away if he tried. He reaches out like he's about to touch me, but his hands fall to the bench and he grips the edge of it instead. And I feel silly out here in this dress, it's tight and big and too showy for me. I never was a Cinderella kind of girl. I want my favorite pair of jeans and my leather bomber jacket. I want to take all this pins from my hair and wipe the make-up from my face, but I realize it wouldn't make a difference. He'd still look at me this way. He always has.

"Edward," I say softly, looking down at my trembling hands as I speak. "I don't know why I'm here. It's not supposed to be like this."

He opens his mouth like he's about to say one thing, but settles on another.

"I get it," he says gently. "You love him, Bell. I've seen how good he is with Masen. But this isn't about that. This is about you – for once in your life you're doing something for _you_. And clearly, there's something missing. Otherwise, you wouldn't be back here right now. And if it were only out of curiosity, you'd already be gone."

I look up at him and hold his gaze, wondering if he can see in my expression how right he is, because I can't say it out loud.

He draws in a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "I know that this is probably the most selfish thing I have done to you, but Bella… I can't let you marry him."

I almost laugh because it's all just so ridiculous. I'm having one of those _this is not my life_ kind of moments. These kinds of things don't happen to people like me. And I think he can see that I'm beginning to see the absurdity of it all, because his eyebrows pull down in determination and he begins to fight.

"Bell… I'm sick of missing out. I'm sick of missing out on my son's life, on your life, on a _normal life. _And I can't change everything I've missed in the past, but I can change it now. I can stop this. Because I just want normal, Bella. I want Sunday walks in the park with you and Masen, and I want to make dinner and help Masen with his homework. And I want a _yard_, Bella. I want space and a house and maybe even a dog. And I want it with you."

I feel myself deflate with his words. It's not what I expect. Those words aren't the ones what I want to hear.

"I can't give you normal," I feel tears prick my eyes and a burning in my chest and I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. He's asked for the one thing - maybe even the _only_ thing - I cannot give him. "You've got it all wrong. Because my life, my _future_, is anything but normal."

He watches me and for a moment I can see just how much my words terrify him. "What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter," I said quietly, feeling my shoulders drop as the hope begins to flutter slowly away with the breeze. I can practically see it go; wave good-bye. "Because this isn't about me – it's not even about us. It's about _you_. It's always been about you. Your career, your dreams. And now you're asking me to leave my fiancé and walk away from my wedding so that – so that you can have your normal cookie-cutter life? I'm sorry that fame and fortune has become exhausting for you, but please don't do this. Don't try and destroy my life because you're feeling unfulfilled. Jesus, Edward. I've always known you were selfish but this… this is an entirely new level."

He blinks once and his mouth pulls down in a way that makes me believe he's on the verge of breaking down. "No, Bella," he says. "See… this is why I wrote it down. I can't form a coherent thought when you're around. It just always comes out wrong."

The reality of where I am and what I'm doing begins to settle around us and I try to control the trembling in my hands as I speak. "You can't just look at what I have and decide you want it for yourself too. You left that life behind, remember? I told you I wasn't going to wait for you. And you have no idea what you're asking of me. You don't know what you're getting into, Edward, because you've _never_ been _there_! You haven't _been_ here –" My voice cracks and teeters on a hysterical edge. I swallow hard as I try and reign in my emotion. "The fact is, you abandoned me when I needed you the most. How can I possibly believe you won't do it again?"

His eyes are filled with sorrow as he watches me, and I can see that he knows hope is dwindling with every moment that passes. "If you could look into my heart, Bella, you'd see."

"See what?" I whisper.

He looks over at me, his lashes kissing his brow and his mouth pulled up into a sad, resigned smile. "That I love you."

I don't expect the emotion that blindsides me with his words. It was a different boy another lifetime ago that he last spoke those words to me. A boy who was yet unchanged by fame and money and magazines and screaming fans and girls willing to do anything for just a moment of his time. He rode the wave of his success and left the girl he claimed to love behind. He left his son behind, the son that he swore on his life he would be there for and to watch grow up. And now it's too late to look back, to decide that everything still wasn't enough.

I shake my head slowly as I speak, watching him as the words fall from my mouth. "I love you Edward, and yeah, when you're around you're a great father to Masen. But he deserves more than a father he only gets to see a couple times a year. He needs someone to teach him how to play catch and throw a football and cast a fishing rod and I can't depend on you to be there for that. And if I walk away today, the only one who will really suffer will be Masen. Can you really do that to him? Can you rob him of a father that you know will be there for him, always?"

"The only one that will suffer?" Edward asks, and for the first time I detect genuine anger in his voice. "Bella, you don't love him the way that you love me. If you did, you'd never be back here. You'll suffer knowing that you walked away from something that could have made you truly happy. I'll suffer knowing I could have stopped it. And Garrett will suffer, because deep down he knows you're marrying him for all the wrong reasons. He knows what you see when you look at him and he knows what you dream of every single night. Will you do that to him? Will you let him be miserable because your – _our_ – son needs a father? I'm his father._ I _love him. And _I _will be there for him."

"How!" I cry. "Are you going to pack the two of us up and drag us around on tour? Make us sit through every recording session? Be backstage at every interview? Because that's not what being a father is, Edward. You already promised you'd be there for us, and look how that ended up. Just please spare me the lies this time. I understand your lifestyle better than anyone and I'm willing to take what I can get! I will never cut you out or keep Masen from you, but I will _never, ever _let him feel the pain of you breaking a promise to him. I won't give him the hope that you're going to be around when we both know damn well it's a lie."

"Bell, I _know_ I fucked up. And if there were any way to take back my mistakes, I would!"

"You didn't make a mistake," I say. "You made a decision. And quite honestly I think that if you hadn't made that decision, you'd resent me for the rest of your life for holding you back."

"You can't know that," he protests.

I look at Edward, and I don't see the person that everyone else sees in magazines and on TV on up on stage. I see a boy, one who wants two very different things, and has just realized he can't have it all. "Neither can you," I sigh.

"Bella, _please_," he begs, and I hate the panic I see on his face, like he knows that this isn't going the way that either of us thought it would. "_I love you_. Why can't that be enough?"

I close my eyes and tilt my head to the sky. And as much as I love hearing those words, I dream of them almost every night, I've been through enough to know how this ends. "The real world just doesn't work like that, Edward. I won't be the one who holds you back," I tell him. "And if I leave here with you, that's exactly what I'll be doing for the rest of our lives. Garrett knows and he accepts this for what it is, but Edward, this is just so much bigger than us."

He grabs my hand and I let him take it and hold it tightly between his. His thumb gently traces a line up and down the skin of my palm as he peers up at me, his eyes watching me with determination. "Bell, what are you talking about? There is nothing bigger than us. In the end, _this _is what matters. I just wish I could have realize it a long, long time ago."

I laugh bitterly at his words, and I know how he doesn't get it, but how the hell could he? Because maybe, if you add it all up, my lies and the broken promises are even bigger than his.

"I don't know what I was thinking, coming back here," I say as I slide my hand from his grasp. And I feel cold – I instantly miss the way his skin feels against mine. "I knew how this would end – how this was always going to end."

I take a deep breath and realize there's no way to do this – no way to prepare him for the news that changed my life forever.

"Edward," I say, swallowing hard as I try to conceal the trembling in my voice. "There's something you need to know. Something I should have told you a long time ago."

He's watching me, and he looks terrified even though he's trying so hard to hide it. I run my tongue along my lips, stalling, plotting an escape route, something, I don't know.

"Well. I guess… I don't know when it all started, exactly. Before Masen. Or just after, maybe. But August of 2009 – do you remember that?"

He hangs his head and slowly pulls his fingers through his hair. And I think he's starting to get it. He's putting the pieces together. When he looks back up at me, his voice is weak and I can see the shadows of the memory in the lines on his face. "Bell," he says, and if he weren't on the verge of tears he sounds like he might even laugh. "How could I ever forget?"

**.x.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Buhhhhhh... I know. I'm such a jerk. I'd make a list explaining why, but it would just be too long.

But YOU GUYS ain't no jerks because ya'll are reading my shit. So, thank you :]


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Summer 2009**

_-two years before the wedding-_

It's hard to explain the panic you feel when you wake up in a hospital bed that you know you didn't fall asleep in. I guess its cause for alarm when you wake up anywhere you didn't fall asleep, but I'm pretty sure a hospital is the worst-case scenario. Unless you wake up six feet under, I suppose, but that would be a completely different kind of story.

I can feel the silence more than I can actually hear it. In my head it's messy and loud and thundering but I can sense the stillness surrounding me. I can feel that something isn't right. It's silent, but it's not like the quiet comfort of my home – and my home is never _this _quiet. My mind feels numb and it's as if I'm battling through a dense haze as I teeter on the edge of consciousness. My head pounds like I drank my weight in whiskey and passed out in front of the bass amp at a show. And I _hurt_. Everything hurts.

When I open my eyes, everything is too bright. I feel like I'm aware for a moment of just how the lights from above bounce off the whitewash walls and the scuffed white floors and there's too much light, it's everywhere, and it's too much. I remember being younger and walking outdoors to a fresh snow after being cooped up for hours in a windowless classroom, and I remember the blindness and the pain of walking out into the sunshine I felt then, and I multiply it by a hundred.

A piercing pain radiates from behind my eyes to across my temples and I let out a groan of anguish. I can't remember light ever hurting this much.

"Bella?" Next to me, a familiar voice breathes my name. Garrett. His voice is a hoarse whisper, like he's been sitting in this silence for some time. I try again to open my eyes, and this time it's a little easier.

"Bella, sweetie, how are you feeling?" he asks, and he speaks so quickly that I have to replay it in my head a few times before I understand what he's said. I can feel his hand on my forehead, pushing damp hair back from my face. He begins talking, but it takes my brain a few seconds to catch up to what he's saying, "—he thinks you're going to be just fine, but he needs to ask you some questions and wants to run a few tests before we go home. Hey, look at me. How are you? Are you feeling all right?"

"Gare?" I croak, squinting up at him. "What happened?"

I take in my surroundings and my heart freezes mid-beat in my chest. My eyes dart frantically around the room. I see the white, sterile walls. I see the white freckled floors, and the blinds that must be older than I am hanging from a window that lets in a dull, grey light. There are machines beeping quietly in the background and a hushed, anxious tone in the air that makes my throat tighten and my stomach feel queasy. There's Garrett sitting tensely in the chair next to me with a newspaper spread across his lap and a kind of fear in his eye that I've never seen before. There's Garrett and the blank, cold walls and the machines and the silence but there's no Masen.

There's Garrett and there's me and we're in a hospital and there's no Masen.

"Gare? What happened? Where's Masen?" I feel the panic rising rapidly in my chest and struggle to get up, but my limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. Garrett only has to put his hand gently on my shoulder to hold me down. My mouth feels dry and my throat raw, like I went to bed after smoking an entire pack of cigarettes.

"Where's Masen?" I repeat, and I hardly recognize the sound of my own voice as it cracks with hysteria.

"Bells, Bells. Calm down – Masen's fine," he assures me as he helps me slowly lay back into the bed. "He's with Esme, at their house. And don't worry, he's completely fine."

His hand feels cool on my forehead as he brushes back a stray hair from my face. I breathe a long sigh of relief and wince, and as the panic fades the sharp throbbing in my skull multiples. And when I look down to inspect my body to be sure all my limbs are in tact, I notice a cast extending from my left fingertips to my elbow. I struggle to hold up my arm. My eyes fill with tears as I ask, "What happened to me? Why does everything hurt?"

"You fell down, sweetie," Garrett says gently. "You were doing laundry and you… you tripped at the top of the stairs going down to the basement."

I begin to shake my head but it only makes the throbbing worse. I gently ease back on the pillows behind me and close my eyes, trying to think back to what I can last recall. I can remember getting up and putting Franklin on for Masen, and I can remember making pancakes with Garrett and being so sleepy I had to put on a pot of coffee. And after that… there's nothing. I squeeze my eyes shut, like it's painful to forget. I mean, if I fell down the frigging stairs, you'd think I'd at least remember it.

"Gare, I can't..." The words don't come, but he knows what I'm trying to say.

"Oh, Bells." He takes my hand in his and gives it a light squeeze. "It's okay. You… you hit your head pretty hard."

"Of course I did," I groan. "I hate that house, Garrett."

"I know you do," he sighs. "I just thought it would be better for us than the apartment. I've already been looking into real estate listings –" he gestures to the paper in his lap. "For a bungalow this time." His lips twitch momentarily and then fix into a straight line, like he doesn't even have the energy to laugh at his own joke.

I mange a tiny smile, "That sounds great." But the pulsating in my brain is making it hard for me to see straight and I have to close my eyes for a few moments to stop my vision from blurring. "How long have I been here?" I ask quietly.

"Since about ten this morning," Garrett tells me. "And it's just after dinner now. They wanted to keep you sedated to make sure there wasn't going to be any… complications. They said everything is looking okay, and they didn't want to keep you under too long in case... Well… I'm just glad you're awake," he finishes, and squeezes my hand.

"Oh god…" I breathe and feel tears prick my eyes. "I'm going to be okay though, right?"

"Yeah," he says, leaning down and pressing his lips to my temple. "It's mostly just bumps and bruises – the doctors said the laundry basket you were carrying probably broke most of your fall. They had to stitch up a cut on your head, but you're going to be just fine."

Instinctively I reach a shaking hand up to my head to assess the damage.

"Here." Garrett takes my hand in his and gently pressed my fingertips to a spot just below my crown, where my hair feels stiff and my skin feels hot. "It's just above there. Seven stitches is what I think he said. You can hardly see it."

I swallow hard and relax back on the bed, letting my eyes close for a moment. I try to collect myself before I break down, and I try to ignore the pain that radiates from my limbs and the pounding in my skull and focus on the fact that things could have been a lot worse. I'm still here, I'm okay, and Masen is fine. I focus on those words and repeat them over and over in my head until a nurse comes in and I no longer feel the pain.

I don't realize I've fallen asleep until I feel a hand on my arm and someone gently saying my name in my ear. I stir from a dreamless slumber, and this time when I open my eyes the pain is not nearly as shocking. I assume they've upped my meds and I'm thankful for the relief, as artificial as it may be.

"Hi, Bella. How are you feeling?" I squint towards the end of the bed where Carlisle Cullen is standing in a white lab coat and holding some fancy-looking clipboard, looking far more professional than I've ever seen him in my life.

"Oh god," I groan, rubbing my eyes with the back of my cast-less hand. But my movements feel clumsy and I half miss and end up punching myself in the nose. "Ow. Shit. Carlisle, this is a joke, right? Please don't tell me you're my doctor."

He laughs and I smile sleepily at the sound – his laugh is so similar to his son's that I find it soothing. "Afraid so," he tells me. "How are you feeling?" he asks again.

I think about it for a second, but when I realize I don't feel much of anything I tell him, "Well my nose kind of hurts, I think. But other than that – much better now."

"I figured you might say that," he says with a crooked smile. "Garrett mentioned you were in quite a bit of pain earlier."

I glance to my side where Garrett is still sitting with my hand in his, and he gives it a squeeze. My head rolls to the side as I smile over at him. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you. How long was I out?"

"Not long. Hardly an hour," he tells me with a small smile.

Carlisle clears his throat from the foot of the bed and glances down at his clipboard. "Bella, first off, I just need to make sure you're comfortable with me being your doctor. I know we're not technically family but I want to make sure you're okay with it."

"Little too late for that, doc.," I joke weakly and then smile so he knows I'm kidding. "I'm fine with it, Carlisle. I'd rather it be you than some other creepy old man."

"Some _other_ creepy old man?" Carlisle laughs. "Well, it's good to see that fall didn't knock your sense of humor out of you. Now, if you're feeling up to it, I have a few routine questions I need to ask you," he says, and although he's acting all doctorly and professional, I still half-expect him to whip out his ancient camera and insist the memories of Bella in the hospital must be properly recorded.

I smile to myself at the thought, but then realize he's watching me and waiting for my answer to something. "Uh, yeah. Sure," I say as I remember what he's asked me. "Shoot."

"Okay. Some of these questions might seem a little strange, but bear with me."

"All right."

"Now, were you aware of ever contacting measles as a child, Bella?"

"Um, no," I say, already thrown off by the absurdity of his first question. "I don't think so."

"Have you ever noticed any abnormal skin rashes? Hives, or perhaps a reaction to something which couldn't be explained?"

"No…"

"Have you ever suffered from anemia?"

I think about it. "I was a little anemic after I had Masen," I offer.

"Okay." He scribbles something on his clipboard. "How about sensitivity to light or sun?"

I shake my head, and then wince when I realize how much that still hurts. "No. Well, not before today."

He smiles tightly. "Have you ever had a miscarriage?"

I gape up at Carlisle but he's waiting for my answer with a look of complete seriousness on his face.

"No," I tell him, my eyes not leaving Carlisle's face. "I have not."

"How about fatigue? Do you find yourself getting tired easily, or requiring more sleep than average?"

"I'm always tired," I tell him, a harsh edge to my voice. "But I have a two and a half year old son, so I'm pretty sure that's normal. And I don't remember the last time I had more sleep than _average_."

"Okay," Carlisle scribbles something else down and then looks up, "Bella, remember, these are routine questions."

"They don't seem very routine to me. I tripped going down the stairs, Carlisle. I thought Garrett said everything was okay."

"And everything is okay," Carlisle insists. "But I want to be thorough."

"Fine," I grumble. "What's next?"

"Garrett mentioned that you were complaining of dizziness when you got up this morning. Do you recall saying that?"

I clench my jaw in frustration, but close my eyes as I struggle to think back to earlier. It feels like a thick blanket of fog is separating now from then. Between the painkillers and the bump to the head, my memories of the morning are still quite jumbled. "I think… I thought maybe I was coming down with the flu?" I offer finally. "You remember Masen was sick last week, and I thought maybe I was getting it."

"Okay," Carlisle nods. "Do you experience dizzy spells often?"

"Not really," I hedge, and Carlisle frowns slightly as he makes a few marks on his clipboard. I feel a knot growing in my stomach and I'm beginning to get very uncomfortable and angry with where all this is going.

"Have you experienced any numbness in your limbs or joints? Fingers, toes, that sort of thing?"

I let out a long breath and glare up at him. I'm starting to regret agreeing to let him be my doctor. There's a long stretch of silence before I reluctantly answer, "…Sometimes, yeah. Mostly in my thumb and sometimes in my one leg. But it comes and goes. I just always thought it was normal." I can feel Garrett watching me questioningly and I make a point of not looking over at him.

"And it very well could be, Bella," he says calmly but I swear I can see something else cross his features, something that happens so quickly I almost miss it before his face smoothes out to a mask of calm. After I register the look that crosses his face I stare across the room and try to convince myself I'm seeing things. "What about pain in your joints?"

"Carlisle—"

"Just answer the question, Bella."

I let out a long breath through my nose. "I guess, yeah. It was worse when Masen was younger, but it still comes and goes. And it's not that bad – I take an Advil and the pain goes away. It's never really been a problem."

"Okay," Carlisle nods and looks up to meet my gaze. "I think that's enough for now. I can't release you until tomorrow – because of your concussion I'd like to keep you in overnight for observation. I'm going to send a neurologist in to see you in the morning, and he might want to book you in for an MRI before he gives you the okay to go home."

"Fine," I say shortly, annoyed and tired and just ready to get the hell out of here. And I'm ready for him to give me another shot of whatever the hell it was that made me feel so good when I woke up. But there's a commotion outside the door to my room that distracts me, and a look of bafflement crosses Carlisle's face as he listens to the voices that carry from down the hall. I strain to hear what's going on and catch pieces of the loud conversation.

"— listen, sir, I'm sorry but I can't let you in there –"

"— do you have _any _idea how far I've come—"

"—visiting hours are at seven a.m.—"

"—that's great, maybe you should inform your _visitors_."

"If you'll please — Doctor Cullen is with her at the moment—"

"Great!" the voice booms. "Masen, come on. Let's go find your mommy and grandpa."

"_Sir!"_

"Oh, good lord," Carlisle mutters quietly, shaking his head with his eyes cast up towards the ceiling. And I just stare at the door in amazement as the footsteps near the room. Suddenly, the door swings open and a very distressed looking Edward bursts in from the hall. He has Masen on his hip, and Masen's hugging a bouquet of flowers that have to be bigger than he is.

"Mommy!" Masen cries when he spots me from around the massive bunch of flowers. "Daddy, we foun' her!"

When Edward meets my gaze from across the room, a look of relief washes over his face. "Bella, oh thank god—" he starts to say as he sets Masen down on the floor and takes the flowers from his arms. And when he straightens back up he catches his father in a tight hug, which is about the second last thing I expected from today.

"Edward?" It's obvious that Carlisle is in as much shock as the rest of us. He claps Edward on the back and looks questioningly over at me. I'm not sure exactly what my expression might be, but I'm sure it's not giving him any answers. "What are you doing here, son?" Carlisle asks.

Masen runs over to the bed and crawls up into Garrett's lap. I reach for Masen's hand as he struggles to climb over to the bed, but Garrett holds him back.

"Mom called me this morning," Edward explains breathlessly, and my eyes dart back over to him. I'm finding this whole thing very confusing – like everything's happening in fast forward. Anguish fogs Edward's features as he begins to fumble over the words, "And she said – she didn't – you didn't… And I had to come. I've been worried _sick."_ He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. "I'm just so glad she's okay – you're okay, aren't you?" He spins on his heels, his eyes frantically searching me for physical signs of damage.

I have a hard time finding my voice as I gape at him in disbelief. My heart's racing and I feel a little shaky and I can't take my eyes off him as stands across the room with a bouquet of flowers in his arms, his body tense and anxious.

"I'm – I'm fine," I choke out finally and when I blink I realize there are tears in my eyes.

"I got here as soon as I could," he says, taking a step towards me and shoving his free hand awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. "I brought flowers, I guess, I didn't really know… And when mom said Mase was at her place, I thought maybe you'd like to see him, too."

"Thank you," I say softly, running my hand over Masen's unruly hair as he watches me apprehensively from Garrett's lap. "Hey, baby," I smile gently as I look over at him. "How are you doing?"

"Gramma an' me made cookies, Mommy. An' Gramma says you gotta owie," he frowns as he looks at me, but his face lights up when he spots my cast. "Do we getta color your arm?"

"You bet, baby. You get to color as many pictures on my arm as you'd like," I promise him and he grins. My smile fades when I glance up at Garrett and see the look on his face as he watches the exchange between us all.

"Have you… called my dad?" I ask. He shakes his head and I see relief cross his face when he realizes he's found his excuse to give us some space.

"But I should go do that," he says, lifting Masen from his lap as he stands. "I promised to let him know when you were awake. And maybe I'll go grab some food too. I didn't… I didn't want to leave you earlier."

"Okay," I say. "Take your time. And tell Charlie I love him and I'll call him whenever someone springs me from this place."

He smiles. "Will do." He nods as he passes Edward and thanks Carlisle before he leaves.

Carlisle clears his throat as the door closes. "Well, I should get back to work. And probably go apologize to Claire for the behavior of my son." He eyes Edward with what is probably supposed to be annoyance, but I see a sparkle of something else in Carlisle's blue eyes. Pride, I think.

"I'm sorry," Edward mumbles, looking down at his shoes. "But she wasn't going to let me see Bella."

But Carlisle just waves him off. "I probably would have done the same if it was your mother." When he realizes what he's said, he just shakes his head and pats Edward on the arm as he passes. "Hopefully I'll see you later, son. And I _will_ see you later, Bella."

"Can't wait," I say, rolling my eyes at him as he exits the room. As soon as the door swings shut, Edward takes a seat in Garrett's spot on the chair beside my bed. He places the flowers on the bedside table and they basically take up the entire thing.

Masen wanders up to Edward and tugs on his pant leg. "Daddy?" he asks and looks up at Edward expectantly.

"Oh. Right." I watch with curiosity as Edward digs around the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small toy airplane, which he holds in the palm of his hand. "Remember what we talked about?" Edward asks him before handing it over.

"Yep!" Masen reaches for the airplane, grinning. "Daddy came to see me on this," he informs me.

"Did he?" I ask, my eyes wide. "That's pretty cool."

He nods enthusiastically. "An' they goes in the sky." He holds it between his fingers holds it above his head as he begins swooping it through the air, making sound effects as he spins circles around the room. I smile and my heart soars as I watch him play.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks as he scoots the chair closer to the bed, watching me with concern in his eyes.

I press the heel of my palm to my face and realize I'm crying. I bite my trembling lip and shake my head, but can't make out the words. But he sees me watching Masen and he gets it.

"I'm just so glad you're okay," Edward breathes softly. "I was just sick… I couldn't _imagine_…"

"Don't," I plead, putting my hand on his arm to stop him. I sniffle and wipe away fallen tears with the back of my hand. "It was nothing – I mean, it's so stupid. But I'm fine so let's not talk about the 'what if's,' okay?"

"Okay," he agrees with a tight smile. Then he lets out a long breath, and I watch his body unwind as he slumps forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the side of the bed as he leans in towards me. Today he looks old and so tired and nothing at all like he does in the pictures I see of him. Sometimes I have a hard time connecting the two – the Edward Cullen that I know and the Edward Cullen that the world knows. But I guess it's always been that way.

He turns his head as Masen toddles to his side.

"Daddy?" he asks, the toy airplane still clutched in his hand. "Can I up?"

"Sure, buddy." He grabs Masen and hoists him into his lap and Masen scrambles from his lap onto the bed next to me.

"Hey," Edward chuckles. "I don't think you're supposed to be up there, kiddo."

"It's okay," I tell him, wincing as I slide my aching body over on the tiny mattress to make room for Masen. He sits up by my head and softly touches my cheek.

"Daddy says I gotta be nice, 'cause you got's a boo boo." He runs his hand down my cheek and I feel more tears escape. "Is this nice?"

"Very," I tell him and try to hide the emotion in my voice as I close my eyes. "Thank you."

"Are you sad, Mommy?" he asks as his fingers dab my tears.

"No, baby. I'm just really happy to see you and Daddy is all."

"And Grampa and Gawett?"

"And Grandpa and Garrett," I agree.

"I's don' like when you cry," he frowns.

"Why not? You cry all the time," I smile, poking him in the belly.

"Nuh-uh!" he cries, squirming away from me. "Jus' babies and Mommies cry."

I laugh. "And you're not a baby?"

"Nu-uh, I's a big boy, Mommy."

"Yeah, but you'll always be _my_ baby," I tell him.

"Like you's always my Mommy, and Daddy's always my Daddy?" he asks thoughtfully, looking over at Edward to confirm.

Edward is watching us with his chin resting in his hand and a sleepy, sweet smile on his face. "Always," he promises his son.

"Always," Masen repeats with a smile and then he nods, seemingly satisfied with Edward's answer. "Are we's all sleeping here, Mommy?"

"No, baby," I tell him. "I'm gonna stay here tonight, but you have to go home with Garrett in a bit and sleep in your own bed, okay?"

"But why can't you's come? It's smelly here, Mommy," he puts his head down on the pillow and pouts.

I smile sadly. "Because the doctors have to make sure my owies are all better before I leave." I eye him as he continues to pout. "Did you have your nap at Grandma's today, buddy?"

"Nuh-uh," Masen shakes his head. "Gramma let me do her laundry an' I put the bubbles in all by's myself! And then we's made cookies, and I helps her clean the floors and then we's took the sithles out of her garden and I's pushed the barrel and I's played, and my Daddy came over from the air-o-plane, but I's never had a sleep."

Edward hides his laughter behind a fake coughing fit and I blink at Masen. "Wow, you did all that today? You were a busy boy." Masen nods proudly. "You must be tired from all that work."

"Yeah," he admits. "But Gramma says I's gots to work for my supper."

This time I can't help but snort in laughter. "Grandma's right - I've been taking it far too easy on you, kiddo. Aren't you going to be three soon? I think it's time you find yourself a job."

"Like Daddy's?" he asks excitedly.

"No, not like Daddy's," I say quickly. "Mommy would miss you too much."

"But I miss Daddy," Masen says.

I avoid looking at Edward as I kiss Masen's head and murmur, "I know you do, buddy. What do you say you lay here and close your eyes for a little bit?" I suggest. "You must be pretty sleepy."

"Okay, Mommy. But will you an' Daddy be here?" he asks, shooting up abruptly in the bed and looking between Edward and I with panic on his face.

"We're not going anywhere," I promise him. "Just relax for a little bit, okay baby?"

"Mmmk," Masen says as he lies back down on the pillows and curls into my side. And he's so worn out that he only tosses and turns a few times before he stops fighting the impending sleep. I don't take my eyes off him until his breathing becomes deep and even, and when I look up Edward is watching us and I just can't put my finger on the emotions I see on his face. I blink sleepily and smile at him.

"How're you feeling?" he asks quietly as he shifts in his chair.

"Right now I'm feeling pretty lucky," I tell him. "And I know I don't want to talk about the 'what if's', but Jesus, what if I had been carrying Masen when I fell? If it wasn't Saturday, and if Gare hadn't been home, Masen would have been coming downstairs with me. And what if he had gotten hurt? Or if Gare hadn't been home, would Masen know what to do if I hurt myself? And if there had been complications and… I just can't… I can't imagine."

"Bella." Edward leans forward and wraps his fingers around my hand. "Everyone is fine, and worrying isn't helping anything right now. And you know that if…" Edward swallows hard and looks down to gather himself. He shakes his head as if to clear those thoughts from his mind when he looks back up. "If you ever need me, I don't care where I am in the world… I'll be here for you guys. Always."

I look up toward the ceiling and let out a long breath, my jaw clenched as I fight back another onslaught of tears. "Thank you, Edward," I say quietly once I'm sure the tears won't come spilling out with my words. And he just squeezes my hand in response.

There's a silence that falls between us, but it's a comfortable one as we both find ourselves lost in thought. Edward keeps my hand in his and is still sitting with his forearms resting on the bed next to Masen, his head bowed and his body motionless. And as I watch him I wonder if he knows, if he had any idea, just exactly how close he is to me right now.

"So, Bella, what exactly happened…?" Edward glances up at me as he hesitantly breaks the silence, obviously looking for a better explanation than 'Bella fell down the stairs.'

I run my fingers through Masen's hair as I talk, "I guess… well, it's still pretty foggy, but Gare said I was carrying a laundry basket and tripped at the top of the basement stairs. It's an older house and those stairs are pretty steep and the basement is still unfinished so it's just concrete floor at the bottom." Edward winces but I shrug, "And, I mean, it kind of sounds like me, right? But your father is making me feel like there's something seriously wrong with me. He knows I've always been a little klutzy."

Edward half-smiles, his eyes still watching me intently, "That's Dr. Cullen for you though – someone falling down is never _just_ someone falling down. There's always got to be a cause. It comes with the territory, I suppose. And I guess it's why he's so good at his job."

"I know," I sigh. "I just hope he lays off. Because there is nothing wrong with me." My voice sounds so confident that I almost believe it myself.

"So where's Em and Rose?" Edward asks, and I can tell he's fighting to sound nonchalant but I still look up in surprise. Because it's rare, so rare, that Edward will speak of his brother. "Were they here earlier?"

"No, they're in Paris for another week still," I tell him.

"Paris?" Edward snorts. "Emmett's in Paris? That's… hard to picture."

I grin. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of funny," I agree. "But that's where he wanted to take her for their anniversary."

"It was his idea?"

"Well, more or less. You know Ro's wanted to go to ever since she first saw that Olsen twin movie where they go to Paris." I roll my eyes. "She still makes me watch it sometimes."

"Huh." Edward leans back in his chair and blows out a short breath, looking like a mixture between amused and confused. "Well… good for them."

I eye him. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "Em's… well, he's still my brother and it's good to know he's happy."

I give him a small smile. "He asks about you all the time, you know. You really should call him the next time you get a chance."

Edward nods like he's really considering it. "Yeah," he says. "Maybe I will."

I smile again, and as I look at Edward I understand the emotion that I noticed in Carlisle's eyes earlier. It really was pride, and I feel it too. I'm proud of Edward for trying and making a genuine effort just when we were all beginning to think we were going to lose him for good. I'm proud of him for dropping god knows what and being here when I know he must have a million other things going on right now –

"Hey, don't you have a show tonight?" I ask suddenly when I recall that he's supposed to be on the road right now. "Shouldn't you be in…?" My voice trails off though because I can't remember exactly where they are on their tour right now.

"Toronto," he supplies, his gaze still fixed somewhere across the room. "But the show isn't until tomorrow."

"You didn't have anything booked for today?"

He just shakes his head and says vaguely, "Ty's better at all the TV stuff anyway – they'll make do without me."

"You're so full of it, Cullen," I say with a lazy smirk. "I saw you on SNL. You were great – the camera loved you."

He rolls his eyes and looks genuinely embarrassed. "You actually watched that?"

"Every weekend. Too bad I had to find out from somebody else that BVK was going to be the musical guest though."

"It was last minute," he insists. "That what's-her-face singer went to rehab and we happened to be in town."

"Sure," I smile. "But what was it like, though? Like, really?" I ask, cradling my broken arm into my chest as I adjust my position on the bed. The pain is getting worse again, and listening to him is a comforting distraction.

"It was…" he pauses as he searches for the words. "Terrifying. Chaotic. _Amazing_. And I'm not one to brag, but Lorne Michaels totally asked for my autograph."

I can't help but grin. "And I'm not one to use you for your celebrity status, but if you're ever on that show again you're totally flying me out."

"Deal." He holds out his hand to me and I reach over and muster a weak-ass handshake that lasts just a fraction of a second longer than it should have. I feel the shiver as I pull away and damn. He just kills me sometimes.

I make him fill the silence with stories from the road – and though I'm sure he edits, some of the things he's experienced still seem unfathomable to me. I can't even imagine myself still out there with him, singing karaoke with Hugh Jackman or snowboarding with Jared Leto. It's a world I don't see myself ever belonging to, and judging by the look in his eye when he talks about it, he still has a hard time believing it's his world too.

The nurse comes in a little while later to change the bandage covering my stitches and she gives me some more painkillers. She eyes Masen sleeping on the bed as she asks Edward and I questions about my speech and makes me touch my finger to my nose, so Edward wordlessly scoops Masen into his arms and settles him onto the couch next to be bed. Masen doesn't even stir and the nurse doesn't say anything about it. Probably because he's just a kid. And really, we're all just kids here.

"This is so lame," I mumble when she leaves. I settle back into the twenty-some pillows on the bed behind me and stare angrily up at the ceiling.

"What's lame?" Edward asks, his tone slightly amused.

I gesture at the hospital bed and my broken arm and everything. "Falling down the stairs. Hitting my head. Breaking my arm. Who does that even? A doctor just made me touch my finger to my nose. It's like I'm five or something."

"It was a nurse, actually," Edward corrects me, and I can tell by his voice he's actually getting a kick out of this. "And she wants to make sure you have _some_ sort of motor coordination, since stairs are obviously far too advanced for you. It's almost like you're five or something."

"Shuuut up," I groan, but a giggle escapes me and pretty soon we're both laughing so hard it hurts. Like, it genuinely _hurts_, but it feels good too, somehow. "I'm glad you're finding enjoyment in my suffering," I gasp through the bursts of laughter.

"Oh, Bell. I'm just glad you're okay," he says, and he hesitates before reaching out and squeezing my hand. "It kills me to know you're in pain, you know. And Jesus, I was just so scared when mom called. That's my biggest fear, you know – something happening to you guys while I'm away. Or something happening to you, period. I hope I never have to feel like that again." He's still chuckling but the look in his eye is dead serious.

"I'd say I'm sorry for interrupting your tour but… it's been really, really good to see you, Edward."

"Hey, you didn't interrupt anything," he says firmly, leaning into the spot where Masen was just laying. "And like I said – I know I might be a long ways away sometimes, but you know I can be home in an instant if you ever need me."

I nod and can feel myself getting emotional again. I blame it on the painkillers, but really I know it's because I miss _this, _having Edward so close. And even though I've accepted the fact that we will never be _us_ again, it's nice having him around.

"Bell?" Edward asks softly as he takes my hand in his and watches me apprehensively. "Can I… Can I ask you something?"

Deep down I know I should say no because I recognize that look in his eye and I know I'm not going to like what's coming next. I know I should say no, and tell him goodnight and close my eyes, because the moment I do I'm certain to fall asleep. But I don't because it's Edward, and I never do what I should when he's around. So I nod, my head heavy on the pillows behind me and my head tilted so I can watch him as he speaks.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me… for going on that tour? For leaving you and Masen?" he asks softly, and he looks frightened by his own words as they pass his lips.

"Edward…" I plead.

"I just need to know," he says. "I don't want you to hate me."

"Jesus. I don't _hate_ you." I struggle to slide up the pillows and he reaches over to help me. "Thanks," I pant once I'm sitting up more. I take a deep breath and squint over his shoulder as I try to put my thoughts into words. "But… I mean, to be honest I think I'll always look at you and wonder what could have been, but I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself if you had stayed. So it happened. Things have a funny way of working out in the end… and even after everything, I can't really say I have any regrets. Can you?"

He looks pained. "You can't expect me to answer that, Bell."

He's right. I don't want to know the answer to that. Because if he says no, then it means he doesn't regret hurting me the way he did or hate having to watch his son grow up from across the country. And if he says yes… well… it's too late for regrets anyway.

"There are a lot of things I wish I would have done differently," he says finally. "And I'll never forgive myself for not being there the day Masen was born. But…" He sighs and shakes his head, looking lost.

"It's okay," I tell him, because I don't need to hear anymore. "I get it."

He nods and bites his lip, and I forget how much those old memories still make my heart ache.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" he asks softly.

"No," I say firmly. He watches me for a moment, trying to gauge if I'm serious or not, and he must decide that I am because finally he nods.

"I would, you know. If you'd let me." He's closer to me now, his face level with mine and our noses only inches apart. I don't understand why or how he's suddenly so close. I'm finding it hard enough to think clearly with the painkillers and concussion and whatnot, never mind Edward Cullen suddenly invading in my personal space.

"I know," I breathe finally. And for a moment I am convinced he's going to kiss me, and my body seems to have forgotten how to move away from him. Shit.

"Bell?"

"Hmm?"

He hesitates, like he was going to say one thing but then chose another. "Let me take Masen tonight," he murmurs, his mouth so close to mine I can feel the breath pass through his lips and reach mine.

"Edward…"

"Just for the night," he pleads, pulling his head back slightly so he can look me in the eye. I let out a long breath when I've realized the moment has passed. "I'll take him to my mom's – she'll be home and you know he'll be fine there."

I frown as I process his request and look over at Masen, still sleeping soundly on the couch. I have no reason to say no. Masen is _our_ child… Edward would take him overnight eventually anyway. Probably. But the thought still makes me anxious, even though I know Esme will be there and Edward would never let anything happen to Masen. Hell, he'd probably sit awake next to his bed all night just to be sure.

Like he'd do to me, if I'd let him.

"That way we can have breakfast together and I'll drop him off before my flight. Or leave him with mom if you guys are still here."

I can see that he really wants this – that he really, really wants this. And even though I know I'm not going to say no, and even though I know it's not rational in the least, I still have a really hard time agreeing to it.

"And I'm sure Garrett is exhausted – and it's one less thing he has to worry about tonight," he continues to plead his case.

"Okay, okay," I finally agree, and watch as his face breaks out into a grin so big I think for a moment it might split in two. It's the same smile Masen gets when we take him out for ice cream or when we play hide-and-seek together or when I tell him we're going to talk to his daddy on the computer.

And how can you say no to that?

"Besides, you need to get some sleep, Bell. You look exhausted."

I open my mouth to argue with him, but I can't deny that I've been fighting to keep my eyes open ever since the nurse left.

He smirks at me, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. "You know that if you don't get some rest, my father will never let you leave this place."

"Fine," I agree begrudgingly. "Just… help me get rid of some of these pillows, would you? There has to be like fourteen on this stupid bed. It's like they want me to suffocate in my sleep or something."

"Sure," he smiles. He stands and takes my elbow as he helps me sit up so he can stack the pillows on the chair where he was sitting. With his hand gently supporting my back, he helps me ease back into the bed. I hate feeling so helpless, but I muster a small "thank you" as he tilts the bed back so it's in a more horizontal position.

I pull the blanket up to my chin and settle down into the two pillows he's left me. It really hits me then, just how exhausted I am.

"How's your head?" he asks.

"Still here," I mumble.

"Can I get you some water or anything?"

"I'm okay," I tell him. "Go home, Edward. I'm sure you could use some sleep too."

He laughs softly. "Yes, boss."

I smile. "Shut up."

"Okay."

My eyes get heavier and heavier, and suddenly it's like someone has pulled a curtain shut over my eyes. "Take care of the kid," I mumble.

"I will," he says softly, his voice closer to me than it was before.

"I know."

I feel his fingers brush my jaw before he gently tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "Goodnight, Bell."

"Night, Cullen," I say softly. "Thanks for bringing Masen in and just… everything."

Then he reaches down and squeezes my hand and places a gentle kiss on my cheek, where he lingers on my skin. "Call me tomorrow," he says, his lips still near my ear. "I want to know how everything goes in the morning."

I shiver. "I will," I breathe, my eyes so heavy I can't even muster up the energy to watch him leave. "I promise."

And as he cradles our sleeping son against his chest and walks quietly away from the bed, I can sense him hesitate in the doorway and cast one last look behind him. I can't even begin to imagine what he's thinking in that moment, but I'm certain that it doesn't even cross his mind that I can break promises too.

**.x.**

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><p><strong>AN: **Can't thank you guys enough for reading, but dammit I'll try - thank you thank you thank you :)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Just so no one is left scratching their heads in confusion, this chapter takes place over a year after the last chapter :)

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><p><span>Chapter 10<span>

**Fall 2010**

_-nine months before the wedding-_

"Masen!" I call from the kitchen as I pile the plates from dinner into the dishwasher, "Your father is going to be here any minute! Are you ready?"

"Daddy's here?" Masen comes sliding down the hallway, his face lit up in a toothy grin. He's practically jumping up and down with excitement. Garrett clears his throat from behind me, clearly uncomfortable. But I ignore him because he knows the drill. We've been doing this for nearly three years now.

I smile as I crouch down and run my hand over Masen's unruly hair. "Not yet but he will be right away. Will you go grab your backpack from your room, sweetie?"

"Yes, Momma," Masen says and takes off in a sprint back down the hallway. The kid wouldn't walk anywhere if he didn't have to.

I slam the dishwasher door shut and follow Masen down the hall. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall, and Jesus, today is one of the days that I feel so much older than just twenty-four. I pause, running my fingers through my hair and checking my teeth. Then I shake my head, feeling ridiculous. I know Garrett is watching silently in the background, but he won't say anything. I don't look back when I pop my head in Masen's room. The doorbell rings before I get a chance to ask my son if he packed his toothbrush.

"Daaaaaddy!" Masen cries and rushes past me to be the first to the door. I pick up the backpack he left lying on the floor and follow him, taking deep breaths with every step.

"Are you going to tell him?" Garrett's voice is quiet from behind me.

"Gare," I huff, because we've already had this conversation. Countless times.

"What about the other thing-"

"Stop it," I hiss over my shoulder. "_Please_. Not right now."

"He should know," he mumbles. I just shake my head, unable to muster up a reply.

When I walk into the entrance, Edward is on his knees on the floor and Masen has wrapped himself around his neck. The scene tugs at my heart and I fight the urge to give them some privacy. But just as I take a step backwards Edward looks up and he looks so… normal. Not like I would have expected after three platinum records and four world tours. Not like a man who lives out of a tour bus and parties every night and has millions of girls screaming at him everywhere he goes. He looks like Edward Cullen, my Edward, the one who visits in my dreams.

"Bella," he greets me when he stands with Masen on his hip. Masen is silent, his head on Edward's shoulder, like he knows. And damn, I just don't give my kid enough credit.

"Hi, Edward," I say and I hug him without thinking because it's what I want. He's been so busy and, damn, I miss seeing Edward – this Edward, the real one and not the one in magazines or on the radio or the one people talk about who really don't know him at all. And I close my eyes as he pulls me into his shoulder. I don't expect the affect this familiarity has on me. I find myself smiling and for one small moment, everything's right. We're one small, happy, perfect family.

But we're not because… we're not.

I pull away from him and watch as he notices Garrett standing across the room, and everything in his expression changes. He stiffens and nods slightly, and if I hadn't been watching for it I never would have even seen it.

"Edward, how's it going?" Garrett's voice is overly polite as he steps forward and reaches for Edward's hand. I look between the two of them and even though I've lived the proof, I have a hard time believing these two used to share a stage. That they used to be great friends and make amazing music together.

"Good, man. And you?" Edward hitches Masen up on his hip and takes Garrett's hand. They shake once and their hands drop awkwardly to their sides.

"How was the tour? I talked to a buddy of mine out in Tucson and he caught your show, said it was rockin'."

"Uh, yeah," Edward shakes his head and then shrugs awkwardly, because he's Edward and he's always so modest. "No, it was good. I'm glad he enjoyed it." And I smile to myself because every time I see him he reminds me a little more of the Edward I knew. He turns to me, "So, I'll have him back here tomorrow afternoon, if that works. We've got sound check at two, and I was thinking maybe I'd bring him along. We'd be back here by four at the latest."

"Oh, right," I nod, as if I've forgotten about the show, as if the radios haven't been torturing me with the news for the past six months. "That's fine. But, um, where are you staying?"

"Oh." With his free hand he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, and written on it in his perfect Edward scrawl is an address and two phone numbers. I read it over a few times.

"This is an apartment address," I say, looking up at him suspiciously.

"Yeah." He shifts nervously.

"Who's is it?" I ask, because yeah, he's my Edward but he's still a musician and I've spent enough time with his kind to know the questions I need to ask. And although I should know better than to judge him, I do it anyway. I don't really know him anymore and my son will not be hanging out with any of the company that Edward associates himself with these days. Maybe I don't know him anymore, but I can see the pictures. I can see the girls and the actors and the trouble.

"It's mine."

"Yours?" I ask, caught off guard.

He waves me off. "It's a long story. Hey, you mind grabbing his bag and giving me a hand getting him out to the car?" He tilts his head towards Masen, who's asleep on his shoulder. I smile at my boy and nod, picking up his backpack and following Edward out the door.

"It's a nice house," Edward comments quietly. We're side by side, walking down the grass to the curb where his car is parked. I glance behind me and see my neighbor, Doreen Banner, peering out at us through the cracks in her blinds just like she's been doing ever since she heard BVK were in town. She never did believe Masen when he told her son, Trevor, that his dad was _the_ Edward Cullen. Nosy bitch. I discreetly flip her the bird and turn back to Edward.

"Thanks," I shrug. "This neighborhood is nicer than our old one but... I actually still miss the apartment. But Masen has friends here. And it's nice to have a yard."

"And no stairs?" Edward asks, looking at me from the corner of his eye with a familiar smirk on his lips.

I nudge him as we walk. "No stairs."

And that's as close as we come to talking about what happened last summer. He asked about it once, and I told him the stitches had healed and the headaches were gone and that I would live. And he never asked why I never called him the next day - he probably thought I was so out of it I didn't remember making the promise. Maybe he didn't even remember it. But we don't talk about it.

"It's so quiet," he says, stopping beside the car. He looks around, and his eyes close for just a moment as if he is soaking up the silence. "I miss the quiet." I choose to hold my tongue as the words fall from his mouth. And I just look at him as he looks around and I wonder if this is how it's going to be for the rest of our lives – holding our tongues and dancing around the words we really want to say. I wonder if we'll always be awkward and formal and holding each other's gazes for just a moment longer than necessary.

Things between us haven't been the same since last summer.

But nothing's been the same since last summer.

"I can't believe he fell asleep," I laugh softly, looking at Masen's forehead pressed against Edward's neck. "He's been so excited all day."

"I know it's been too long since I've been back," he apologizes.

"It's fine. He just misses you." I shrug. It's been over four years of steady back-to-back recording and touring for BVK, but it seems like time off is becoming more and more rare. I know that Edward knew what he was getting himself into when he signed the contract – and the success that they've been having comes with a price. I get it and I don't blame him, but sometimes I wish that price wasn't Masen's dad. Masen needs a dad.

Edward's looking off into the distance and he's obviously so far away. He runs his hand over Masen's mess of brown hair. "I'm just afraid… one day he's going to forget who I am."

I smile sadly. "He won't, Edward. You should see him – he tells anyone who'll listen that his daddy plays _geetar_ and sings so people can be happy."

Edward's face lights up for a moment before he looks back towards the house. His eyes grow dark, and I've known him long enough to know exactly what he's thinking. "You'll always be his dad, Edward," I say softly. "No matter what."

And he just bobs his head and opens the car door like the shy boy I once knew. I watch him as he puts Masen in his seat because, yeah, I want to make sure he remembers how to do it. I peer over his shoulder and smile because yeah, he remembers how to do it.

When he stands I straighten and try to pretend like I haven't been watching him. He runs his hand through his hair. I wonder if one day Masen will inherit that trait. I've always found it endearing.

"Will you come to my show tomorrow?" Edward asks softly when he faces me, his body tensed like it took him a while to build up the nerve to ask.

I hesitate then shake my head. I haven't been to a show since before Masen was born. "I can't."

"Please?"

I sigh. "_Edward_."

"Bella."

"I can't."

"Why?" His eyes are wide and innocent and I can see he really does want me there. And dammit, he kills me.

"I just… can't." I cross my arms over my chest and look away.

"Please." He ducks his head inside the car and when he stands he presses an envelope into my chest. "Please, Bell. I miss seeing your face at my shows. It would… it would mean a lot."

I tip my head back, not looking at him when my hands find the envelope.

"I'll see what I can do," I say. And it's the best I can give him.

"Okay." He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns. "I guess… I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Around four?" I confirm.

He nods.

"He'll probably wake up by the time you get home. Just don't let him stay up any later than nine, Edward. No matter what he tells you, he is not allowed sugar after dinner. His teddy is in his bag, he won't sleep without it. And for breakfast—"

He cuts me off. "Bella."

I look up at him. "What?"

He's wearing his crooked smile. The easy one. The one that I fell in love with. "You know I've done this before, right?"

For some reason I'm breathless. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to this."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promises with a wink. And I know it means he'll take care of him. And I know he will.

"See you." I give him a small wave and walk backwards up the lawn as starts the car and puts it in drive. And as I watch them go, I can't help but wonder that if it weren't for the boy sleeping in his back seat, would Edward Cullen already have forgotten me?

**.x.**

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><p><strong>AN:** I owe some amazing people a giant thank you for spreading the word about this story last weekend - among them were Sunflowerfran and cejsmom. Things exploded, you guys. It was a little messy, but mostly kind of remarkable. You reviewers left me some beautiful, kind words. I think I got back to almost everybody who left a review for chapter 9, but if I missed any of you I do apologize!

Thanks to Kristina for catching my mistakes and thank you all so, so much for reading! I know this chapter was a little small, but the next one will be something big ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** A huge thank you goes out to Kristina for working her beta magic and to cejsmom for prereading. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate you guys! And as always, thank you so, so much to all you readers for being hilarious and discussing and forming clubs. And oh yeah, for reading :D**  
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><p><span>Chapter 11<span>

**Fall 2010**

_-nine months before the wedding-_

I'm back in the crowed halls and I'm trying to pretend like I belong. In my dreams there are less people but otherwise every thing else is the same. It's so loud and sweaty and I'm struggling to remember what I used to do back here. I check that the all access pass Edward left for me in the envelope is still in my back pocket. My hands feel clumsy and awkward and I'm sure that I look so out of place I'm in danger of getting my ass kicked out. But no one really looks twice at me as I maneuver my way through the crewmembers and screaming, rabid fans.

And I mean _rabid_. Someone must have dumped crazy in the water because I've never seen people act like this before. I want to stop and yell at them – tell them that those guys up there, they're just _people_, chill the fuck out. But I don't because there's something about the girls here that make me fear for my life. Instead, I carry on quietly and slip past security without a second glance.

I guess they can tell I have done this before, even if it has been a while.

I find the right door and lean against the doorframe when I knock even though I don't really expect it to open. I'm surprised when it slips open a crack at first, and then suddenly the heavy door is thrown wide open. When I see who stands on the other side my face breaks out into a grin.

"Bella?" The band's manager and an old friend of mine, Jasper Whitlock, stands next to a burly security guard. His mouth is hanging open in surprise as he pulls me into his arms and squeezes me so tight my feet leave the ground. I laugh as he kisses my cheek and holds me back at arms-length when he sets me down. "Holy fucking hell. I thought Cullen was shitting me when he said you might be here. I owe the cocksucker a hundred bucks now."

"It's good to see you too, Jas," I laugh as he releases me and pats me a few times on the back and just kind of blinks at me.

"Well, shit. Can I get you anything, girl? Beer? Stella?"

"Sure," I say as I follow him into the dressing room and begin to relax. He slips off the beanie that is covering his blonde curls and runs his hand over his head a few times as he digs out a beer from the mini-fridge. He pops the top and passes it over to me and we relax back in the leather couches. Concrete walls muffle the activity outside the doors and I sip my beer. This is more like what I remember, and I feel a little bit at home.

And I wonder, just for a fraction of a second, why Edward still keeps his fridge stocked with Stella when I was the only one who ever drank it.

"E's just in the shower," Jasper says, nodding towards a closed door at the back of the room.

"It's fine," I tell him. "I'm not in a hurry."

He raises his eyebrows and lights up a joint. "You got a sitter tonight?"

"Garrett."

"Oh." He exhales a cloud of smoke and coughs. "Shit. I forgot you two were…" He points at me awkwardly and then shrugs. "You know. Anyway. How's he doing these days?"

"He's great," I tell him. Garrett swears getting mono and being left behind was one of the best things to ever happen to him. But I see the look in his eye every time he has to be reminded about the accelerated success of his old band and I notice the way he changes the station ever time one of their songs comes on the radio. But I know how it feels to be left behind too.

"Good." Jasper nods. "You want?" he offers me the joint and I shake my head. "Right." He looks awkward again like he really doesn't know what to say.

"Are those yours?" I ask, nodding at a pack of smokes sitting on the coffee table. Without answering, he leans forward and tosses the pack into my lap followed by the lighter. I can't remember the last time I had a cigarette. But I had a few stadium beers during the show and I'm feeling pretty good. I light up the smoke and toss the lighter and the box back on the coffee table between us.

"The kid's cute," he says, holding his hand up to about Masen's height. "Came by the sound check with E this morning. He'll be old enough to start coming to shows pretty soon, hey?"

I roll my eyes as I exhale. "Not for a while yet."

"Oh you're going to be one of _those_ moms," Jasper goads.

"He's hardly even four years old, Jas."

"Jesus. Has it been that long already?"

I just shrug and Jasper kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "So, what'd you think of the show?" he asks me.

"It was great," I tell him. Truthfully, it was the best show I'd ever been to, period. As cliché as it sounded, the band truly came alive on stage. And _beautiful w_as truly the only word I could think of to describe Edward when he performed. He was just… perfect up there. The crowd's reaction to him had floored me – every single woman wanted him and every single man wanted to be him. I knew Black Velvet Kings were doing well, but actually witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely.

"Just '_great'_? Really? Three platinum records and all I get is '_great'_?"

I turn to the sound of Edward's voice behind me. He's standing with a towel in his hands, a pair of jeans hanging from his hips and nothing else. He's beaming as he teases me, the lingering stage high evident on his face. And the smile on his face makes me soar.

"Well, it wasn't terrible for a bunch of sell-outs," I grin slyly. He runs the towel over his hair and throws it at me. When I try and block the towel I drop what's left of my cigarette on the floor and pick it up, tossing it in the ashtray. It tastes gross anyway.

"Sell-outs? Ouch. Remind me not to give her free tickets again," he says, addressing Jasper as he jerks his thumb in my direction.

Jasper holds up his hands in surrender as he gets to his feet. "Don't you guys go getting all domestic on me already. I'm staying out of it. I gotta go find Ty anyway. He's got that interview to do."

Edward already has his head stuck in the mini-fridge. His voice comes out muffled but he holds up a hand as he waves at Jasper. "Cool. Peace, dude."

"Bye, Jas." I wave as he slips out the door past the security guard and slams the door behind him. I sip my beer and watch as Edward kicks the fridge shut and picks a t-shirt up off the floor. After carefully bringing it to his face sniffing it a few times, he pulls it over his head and comes to settle down on the couch beside me. He pours some whiskey in a glass with ice and sets it on the coffee table. Throwing his arm over the back of the couch, he twists in his seat and calls out to the body guard still standing inside the door.

"Hey, Dem. You mind chillin' outside for a bit dude?"

"No problem." The gigantic man nods towards us before making his exit. I watch the spot where the man was standing for a bit longer than normal, my brain too busy just trying to process why the hell Edward would ask him to leave and just what exactly that means.

"So fucking unnecessary," Edward mutters, jerking his thumb towards the door as I slowly turn back around.

I shrug. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Personally, I'd be more afraid to mess with Emmett than any of these roided-out body guard fucks."

I smile. "Where is Emmett tonight?" I say the words before I really think about it. And it's just because I'm feeling at home back here – the dressing rooms might be bigger and nicer – but it's still home. And backstage was rarely ever home without Emmett there too. Although they talk more now than they did for a while, things are still tense between the two brothers.

"Dunno," Edward shrugs. "I sent him and Ro some tickets, though. You didn't see them?"

"Actually, I didn't even tell Rose I was coming."

"Really?" Edward raises his eyebrows and grins. "Why not?"

"I didn't even think I was going to come."

"Are you glad you did?"

"Very," I smile.

"Me too." He smiles all shy and raises his glass to cheers it with mine. I watch him, smiling, and yeah and get it. I understand why he chose his music. He's never happier than when steps on that stage. I see it. I understand it. But damn if it doesn't still hurt.

When I finish my beer, I help myself to a second and Edward laughs as he watches me.

"What?" I shrug innocently. "I don't get out much these days. I have to take advantage of this." Winking, I twist off the top.

When I sit back down on the couch, I notice he's frowning. And I see the guilt in his eyes and hear it in his voice when he speaks, "Trust me, Bell, I really do wish I could be home more. I told you I'd pay for sitters or nannies or whatever you want and I know it doesn't make up for it but I just hate leaving you with the responsibility of Masen all the time—"

I hold up my hands to stop him. "Edward, you realize you can't just throw money at a kid and expect him to raise himself, right?"

His face falls. "You know that's not what I mean. I just wish I could do more to help."

All my replies are bitter, and I sigh. It's such a touchy subject. But I tell him, "I _love_ being a mother and Masen will never be a burden. Ninety-nine percent of the time, there's no where I'd rather be than with my son."

I can see the anguish and regret cloud his face with my words, and I have to wonder if it's because he feels the same way… or because he doesn't?

"Except for right now?" he asks, trying so hard to mask whatever it is that he's thinking.

I look up at him and offer him a small smile. "Except for right now."

He still looks guilty but I try to ignore it because I don't have the energy to waste on being angry. Honestly, when it comes down to it, the fact is that no matter how much he _says_ he wants to be here, he's not. He's just… not. Maybe we'll never be first in his life. But it breaks my heart when Masen cries for his Daddy and I have to tell him it's 3 a.m. in London, or he's in the studio, or he's on stage somewhere, or he just can't be reached right now.

Music is why I fell in love with the boy who lived down the street. Unfortunately, it's also the reason why I fell out of love with him, too.

"Edward…" The words are on the tip of my tongue but I swallow them down at the last minute. "So, um, that apartment…" I say instead, "_Your_ apartment. In Seattle. How'd that happen?" I watch him, trying to act like it hasn't been on my mind since he left my house yesterday.

And he smiles like he's been expecting me to ask about it since he left my house yesterday. "My accountant is always encouraging me to invest in real estate," he shrugs casually.

I frown. "An investment? That's… great," I say but my voice lacks sincerity.

He looks amused at my reaction. "Bella… that was a joke," he says slowly. I think he might be a little hurt that I believed him so easily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was speaking to Edward Cullen the comedian," I say dryly. "Maybe if you actually _had_ a sense of humor I wouldn't take everything you say so literally."

"I happen to think I'm hilarious."

"Well that makes one of you."

"You're so full of it, Swan. And actually, a friend of mine was selling, and I figured it was a good idea for me to have a place here. A place of my own. Now that I'm taking Masen overnight, I figured it would be nice to actually have somewhere to, you know, _take_ him. And eventually he'll have his own bed there and his own room." His eyes light up as he speaks, and his excitement at creating his own home for Masen warms my heart. "But the place is pretty modern and not exactly kid friendly yet."

I grin. "Mase came home and told me he slept in a spaceship last night," I tell him.

Edward bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, that's what he was talking about! He kept asking if we were going to the moon… I just figured it was all the chocolate I gave him before bed talking—"

I open my mouth to scold him but I catch the smirk playing on his lips and realize he's joking. Again. Such a comic. I snap my mouth shut and just shake my head. "Gotta admit I'm a little disappointed you didn't actually buy a spaceship. But will you be keeping your place in L.A. too?"

He sighs and sets his glass down on the coffee table. He runs his hands through his hair as he nods. "Yeah. I have to. I mean, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to make it back to Seattle as much as I'd like, but I'll have a place to stay when I do. It's a step in the right direction."

"I think it's great," I say earnestly. "And now Masen won't think you're some homeless musician. Or that you still live with your mother."

He makes a face as he picks his drink back off the table. "Homeless? I'm going to have to start reminding him more about how famous and successful I am," he says. "Better tell him to watch who he talks to or that'll end up in the tabloids next week."

"Shoot… I probably shouldn't have programmed that number for TMZ into his cell phone then."

Edward chuckles. "Yeah that might have been a bad idea – they always say it's the ones closest to you that end up selling you out."

"You probably won't have to worry about that for a few years yet," I say. "But wait until he's a teenager and wants to make your life miserable…"

He mouth falls open, a look of mock horror on his face. "We've created a monster."

"But a pretty darn cute monster, you have to admit."

Edward's face morphs into a grin. "You're not kidding. The guys were falling all over him when I brought him to sound check. And I think Jasper's girlfriend is completely in love with him. Takes after his old man," Edward grins, puffing out his chest.

I laugh into my beer bottle. "Obviously," I snort.

"But hey, I was thinking about something today," he says, and the nonchalance in his voice instantly makes me suspicious.

I pull my bottle from my lips. "Oh?"

"Masen was saying that he wants to see what I do, you know, how I make music and all that. We're going to be back in the studio this spring, and I know it's still a ways away… but maybe you and Mase can fly out to LA and visit for a while. I can show you guys around, Masen can see the studio and we can all spend some time together. I've got plenty of room and you guys would be welcome to stay for as long as you'd like."

I feel my heart deflate at his innocent request, because he has unknowingly brought up a topic that I had wanted to avoid tonight. Or forever, were it possible.

"I can't, Edward," I say softly.

"Garrett can come too, if that's what you're worried about," he offers even though I can tell he doesn't really mean it.

"That's not exactly it," I tell him.

He slides closer and looks genuinely concerned, which makes this even more difficult. "Why then?" he asks. "Is it money? Because I told you, Bell, you don't have to worry about that kind of stuff."

I get to my feet to try and get some distance from him, to try and clear my head of him. But it's so stuffy in here, and he's everywhere. I see a belt on the floor that I swear he's had since he was fifteen. I can taste him in the air and can even tell he still uses the same shampoo that he did when he was a high school.

It's fucked up that he can somehow manage to be this famous, successful Edward and the humble, shy one I grew up with all at once.

This shouldn't be so hard. He's messing with my brain.

"Bell?" he asks again, with even more concern laced in his voice.

Finally, I blurt it out.

"I'm getting married, Edward."

Before I can blink he's on his feet and moving towards me. I step away from him, trying to outrun the words while he hurtles right though them. I move backwards until my back bumps the concrete wall and I'm cornered. His eyes are downcast and his eyebrows furrowed and I don't think he meant to corner me but he has.

His palms touch the wall on either side of my head and I try not to breathe.

He so close.

Too close.

I have to stop myself from closing my eyes; I can almost taste him on my lips. He's still looking down and I wish I could see his eyes. His eyes would tell me exactly what he's thinking right now.

"Edward?" My voice shakes.

"…You're _marrying_ him?" He finally speaks, his voice breathing sorrow and pain and everything into a few simple words. "_Why?"_

"Because he asked." And really, yes I wish it were that simple.

He laughs, almost, and shakes his head. "Marry me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "Edward. Be serious."

"I am," he says, and slowly he raises his head to look me in the eye. "You love me."

"Don't," I breathe and look anywhere but at him.

"It's true," he insists.

"Edward, don't," I beg. "Please."

"Tell me, Bella." His fingers slide under my chin and lifts is up until I meet his eyes. "Do you really believe you belong with him?"

I can only watch him, my eyes wide and filling with tears.

"Bella, I lo-"

He begins to say it but I cut him off before he can finish.

"Edward," I plead, squeezing my eyes shut. My voice is weak, the effect those three simple words has on me is unexpected. But he continues.

"And a part of me has loved you since the first day I met you, Bell. Don't do this. Don't marry him. You don't belong with someone like him."

"You'd rather see me alone," I grind out, "Than happy? Don't ruin this for me. Let me be _happy_, Edward. Let _me _have something, for once."

I feel him move away and when I dare to open my eyes his back is to me, his shoulders rigid. I remain pressed up against the wall as I watch him. A warm tear slides down my face and rolls past my lips.

"Where's your ring?" His voice is hollow.

I glance down at my bare hand. "I didn't want… I couldn't. I don't know, Edward. I didn't want you to have to see it… I didn't come here to rub it in your face. I didn't want to have to do this, not now."

He looks back at me like he doesn't believe me. "When were you planning on telling me, then? When I got the invite in the mail? Or – oh wait – I bet I wouldn't even be invited, would I? You could have called me from your honeymoon, I suppose."

"Edward, come on. I came here to see you, not to do _this_. I didn't come here to hurt you. But I'm also not going to lie to you. You deserve to know the truth."

He shakes his head. "You're making a mistake and you know it."

"Edward—"

"You _know _this is a mistake, Bella," he says, his voice low. He moves slowly towards me and suddenly I'm not sure what mistake he's talking about anymore. "You should be with me."

"You can't just leave me behind," I say, "And expect me to wait. You don't get that. And I don't love you like that – not anymore."

His eyes change and they're not soft or sad anymore, but they're not angry either. It's a look I remember.

Hunger.

I don't push him away when he comes closer. I can't look away as he moves in, until all I see in his eyes are my own.

"You should go," he all but growls.

My words are a soft flutter between us, hardly a breath. "Fine."

"Then I guess this is good-bye," he says but he moves closer, and I can practically feel his words moving against my mouth. I bite my bottom lip to stop it from trembling and close my eyes. He smells like aftershave and mints. And I try to think of other things, things that don't smell good. Like the pancakes he would burn on Sunday mornings, when we'd come home from a show and were both too buzzed to sleep. Or the sweat in his hair after a show. Or the way his laundry would smell after a tour. I try to imagine these things but I can't. He's rendered my brain useless and I think of things like honey and blueberries, more things that only remind me of him.

Before I know it happened, I'm pinned between him and the wall behind me. I don't move and I don't even think I can breathe anymore. I feel his hot breath on my neck and my head rolls back. He edges closer until I can feel every part of him pressing against me, so familiar but new all at once. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not move against him. My legs shake to support me and I ache for friction and my skin feels like it's burning. And I realize it's been a long time since I've felt this way.

"Just know, Bella," he says, his voice a whisper across my skin. I shudder and he leans down and presses his lips to the curve of my neck, "I won't go down without a fight." He has a piece of my hair wrapped around his finger and I find the courage to open my eyes. He's looking down on me, his eyes on fire. And he's fighting already.

"You won't win," I tell him, but my voice says something else. ""I won't…" my voice dies off as his mouth moves up and places a hot kiss below my ear. I swallow hard, and as I swallow it's like I drag that kiss down my throat to my chest where it settles and it burns and it aches…

I think about that time we played poker in the back of the band's van, when a blizzard stranded us on the side of some highway in Minnesota. When he taught me about bluffing and how to keep your expression neutral so your opponents can't read your face; won't know what cards you hold. Whether your hand is good or bad. Whether you might win or lose. Because with the best poker face, the cards you are dealt don't matter.

"Edward, I won't choose you."

I never won when we played poker.

He begins to back away, and he's shaking his head. "We could make it work," he mutters.

"We _can't_," I say, and this time I mean it. "I'm not the same person you left behind and you have to understand I _can't_ put myself through that anymore. I can't just have that tiny piece of you that passes through town every few months. Just please let me go, Edward," I beg. "I will never judge you and I will never hate you, but I will _never _let you break my heart again and I will never let you do that to your son. So please, Edward, let me go – because I let you go four years ago. And now… now we're nothing more than two people that happen to have a son together."

I turn to leave, angry and frustrated that this is what tonight has become. I didn't want a fight and I sure as hell didn't want this. I wanted to spend time with Edward without all of this, but I was kidding myself when I thought it could be like it used to. There is no place for me in this world anymore. And now my emotions are a mess and I'm on the verge of a breakdown and I just need to leave. And as I reach for the door, he makes a sound in the back of his throat that is somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

"Bell," he calls after me, his voice desperate, like he's choking on his last breath. It's enough to reel me back. His hand wraps around my arm and I realize at the last second that he doesn't even have to pull me towards him. I've changed course all on my own. Our bodies crash into each other, and I'm gasping for a breath the same time his mouth meets mine.

Almost the same moment that our lips meet, we both pull away. Edward's hand is cradling my cheek, and his fingers feel cool against my flushed skin. Our faces are hardly an inch apart. My chest rises and falls like I've just spend hours chasing Masen around the house.

"Edward, this is –"

"I know."

I look up slowly and meet his eyes, my lips parted and my breath is still coming out in pants. His hooded eyes look down at me, but neither of us moves. And I don't know what the breaking point is – if it's the beer or the closeness or the high from the show or the fact that I can still taste him on my lips – but in that moment something snaps between us. My mouth meets his again, and this time we surrender to the embers that crackle and pop around us, igniting a fire between our two bodies.

He lets out a heavy breath against my mouth and I can taste the relief and hunger as his body unfolds against mine. My lips move against his in the same way my foot taps along to the familiar beat of an old song. And whatever it was I was feeling when he had me pinned against the wall I now feel that times a thousand. My hands claw at his hair as his clench around my lower back, pulling me closer, closer, closer until our bodies become one. And for one fraction of a second everything feels right and nothing has changed. I can taste the warm sting of salt on my lips as he presses my back against the concrete wall. I pull him harder against my body by his belt loop and a quiet moan passes between us.

My body feels a fire that hasn't burned in over four years, and the only thought on my minds is: there _has _to be a fucking way to make this work. And maybe that was his endgame or maybe this is really just a farewell.

A good-bye.

Because I don't think it's possible to truly love someone you don't trust. And just because you don't hate someone, it doesn't mean that you love them. Tears well in my eyes with the realization that tonight – that all of this – it was never anything but good-bye.

"Edward," I say, my voice shaking. He lets out a tiny groan in response to his name that makes this even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stop feeling.

"Edward, stop," I gasp. He has my hair wound around one hand while the other climbs up the curve of my hip, but he freezes at my words.

"I have to go," I say because, shit, what the hell else do I say?

He steps away from me like my skin has burned him. I watch the way his chest rises and falls as he gasps for air and he drags the back of his hand slowly against his mouth. "You don't have to," he says, shaking his head slowly. "You're choosing to." He holds up his hands as if to remind me I'm the one who turned around and I'm the one who came back. And that I'm the one who's leaving.

I can only shrug helplessly. "We all make choices that hurt people we care about," I say sadly. "And I'm so sorry, but I shouldn't have come. I just really… shouldn't have come."

"No, you shouldn't have." His voice is wounded and I can tell that he's going to blame me for this, and if that's what he needs to do then I can take it.

"I'm going to be really busy for a while now," he tells me as I turn to leave, this time for good. "It's going to be a while before I can get back to see Masen." My eyes fill with tears in response to his words. I don't know what hurts me more – the fact that he's already admitted defeat or that our son has to suffer because of it.

"Fine," I say with my back to him, trying to mask the anger in my voice. "Just… make sure and call him every once in a while. Check in."

"I always do," he says, his voice breaking and sounding farther away than it had just been.

"Good-bye, Edward," I mouth the words to the door. And I swear I can hear a soft whisper of a reply from somewhere behind me.

Even though I know I shouldn't, I glance back as I slip through the heavy door. I hesitate for a moment in the threshold, realizing that I now know what it looks like when a man falls to pieces on top of the world.

.x.

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><p><strong>AN:** Soooo. Yeah. The whole "I'm getting married" thing was one of the things Garrett wanted her to tell Edward. The other thing? Perhaps we'll find that one out next chapter...

Thanks again to everyone for reading! xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Hey guys, I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to reply to reviews after last chapter. Hectic week. But I adore you all the same :)

Thanks to my beta Kristina for finding mistakes my eyes can't, and thanks to cejsmom for prereading and cheerleading. Ya'll rock

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><p><span>Chapter 12<span>

**Summer 2011**

_-present day-_

It's too quiet out here, sitting silently on this bench beside Edward, and for a moment I miss the hustle and bustle and frenzy of inside the church. Inside there it was easy. There were people in there dictating my every move. All I had to do was follow their direction: close your eyes, lift up your arms, hold these flowers, walk down here, say these words, kiss this man.

And now… now I forget what I'm supposed to do. What I'm supposed to say. I don't know where I go from here.

But the words are here somewhere. And just like his songs that haunt me – the words have always been here, hanging over our heads and playing rhythmically in the back of my mind. And right now I wish he could know what I am thinking because it's easier – so much easier – than saying the words out loud. I find myself beginning to stall.

I clear my throat.

I run my fingers over the lace of my dress.

I pick at a cuticle.

I begin counting blades of grass.

"Edward," I say finally when I get to thirty, and know I can't delay it any longer. He's sitting anxiously next to me, awaiting the words that changed my life forever. And once I've opened my mouth I realize there's no going back.

"The morning after you left the hospital, probably about the same time you and Masen were having breakfast, I was getting an MRI." I keep my eyes on the grass at our feet and speak the words like I'm reciting something I've practiced countless times over and over again in my mind. "And not long after that, they scheduled me for a spinal tap."

He's watching me carefully, and I can tell he's struggling to mask his horror. Because his dad's a doctor. And he's not an idiot. He knows. He knows they don't do those kinds of tests without a reason.

"And… it turned out your dad was right – there was something more. I didn't just fall down the stairs. There was something wrong with me. There _is_ something wrong with me."

I draw in a deep breath and take his trembling hand in mine, but I still can't look at him as I speak. "At twenty-three years old, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis."

At first, Edward doesn't really react. He just sits there, unmoving, and for a moment I wonder if he's even heard me. But then he slowly drops my hand and hangs his head. He releases a long breath as he processes the words that have gone unsaid for far too long. And I wonder if he sees it yet – if he finally understands that 'I love you' and 'I want to be with you' are just not as simple they seem.

"Bell…" His voice cracks as he breaks the drawn-out silence between us. He looks over at me, still disbelieving. Still processing. "MS? Are you… are you sure?"

I smile wryly. "Yes, I'm sure."

He just shakes his head slowly, and I watch as he works his jaw as he tries to put the pieces together. I can tell that he's looking back, searching for the signs. Trying to find another explanation because somehow, someone must have made a mistake somewhere along the way. I know because I've done it almost every day for the past two years. But no matter how hard I try and tell myself they're wrong, the signs were there. And I carry the symptoms and their effects with me every single day.

"Are you… in pain?" he asks finally, his eyes searching me like he'll be able to find the answer written on my skin.

"Not always," I tell him. "At this point I'm just tired, mostly. Fatigued. I get dizzy, and sometimes it feels like I'll fall down with the slightest breeze. But I had my first bad attack last autumn – I lost almost all function in my left arm for nearly a month."

"Jesus, Bell," he breathes. Then something registers and he eyes me carefully. "Last fall? Around the time you came to my show?"

"Yeah…" I choke out. "A few… a few days after."

His eyes narrow. "Are you kidding me? Bella – are you – fuck –" He draws in a sharp breath as he jumps to his feet, suddenly frantic. "Mark's mom has MS – you're supposed to _avoid_ stress. You put yourself in danger, you were alone in a crowd of people that couldn't care less about your safety – and Garrett _let_ you?! You could have fallen down; you could have been severely hurt! Anything could have happened to you there! And I – shit –" His eyes grow wide. "I… I didn't know. Bella, Christ, I didn't know and…"

He doesn't finish but the look on his face says it all.

"Edward, it's _not_ your fault," I say firmly, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down to sit next to me. "I put myself there. _I_ did. And I was fine."

"But you _weren't_," he says. "You arm –"

"Is fine," I interject. "My arm is fine now." I hold out my left arm and flex my hand to prove it to him.

"But Bell, why didn't you tell me? What were you _thinking?"_

I laugh, but there's not emotion in it. "What difference would it have made?"

He sits up and searches my face like he's trying to decide whether or not I'm sane. And suddenly anger flashes across his features. "What _difference?_ Jesus, Bella. There had to have been something I could have done!"

"There's nothing you could have done," I snap. "There's nothing_ I _could do. There's nothing the doctors can do. MS in an _incurable_ _disease_, Edward. So I take a handful of pills every day and pray to god that when I wake up in the morning I don't feel worse than the day before. And you know, I've tried really hard not to feel sorry for myself, but I'm _scared. _And I didn't want to put that on you, and I sure as hell didn't want your pity. Because at least when I was with you, we got to have our petty arguments and life was normal for a goddamn minute. You never looked at me like I was about to shatter into a thousand pieces before your eyes, and I _needed_ that."

He's quiet but he's still staring at the ground, his jaw rigid with anger. I can see tears gathering in his eyes and his hands grip the edge of the bench so tightly I fear he might snap it in two. And when he finally speaks, he looks up at me with his green eyes blazing, "So… let me get this straight – you call me selfish when _you're _the one who is marrying a man you don't even love just so you don't have to go through this alone? That's sickening. There are other options, you know! Jesus, Bella. I can't believe you didn't tell me… I would have been there. I _promised you_ I would be there for you!"

"Yeah, well you've promised me a lot of things over the years," I say bitterly. "And how _dare_ you jump to the conclusion that the only reason I'd marry him is because of this. I _never_ said that's why I'm marrying him. And I sure as hell never said that I didn't love Garrett. _Never_. And he loves me in spite of all of this. It's not like I'm going to up and die tomorrow, but one day my quality of life will probably be pretty shitty. And Garrett knows that one day I might not be able to get out of bed and he might have to carry me downstairs. He knows that one day he might have to push me around in a frigging wheelchair. He knows that I'm going to have days where I can't be there to see Masen off to school or go to his Christmas concerts or his soccer games, and he _wants _to be the person who is there for that. He knows how impossible this life is going to be, and from some reason he wants to be there for that! And you think I should just throw that all away?"

"That's the difference though, Bella. He _knows."_

I let out a shaky breath. "Say I had told you earlier. What would you have done?"

"I would have come home," he holds my gaze as he answers, his voice steely. "I would have moved back home and I would have been there for you. And though I know you don't believe me, you and Masen are so much more important to me than my career is. Music will always be there. And I know you don't believe it Bell, but I love you. So much." His voice cracks and I feel my chest tighten as he swats away a tear. "I would have been there then, and I'll be there now."

I bow my head as tears begin to flow freely down my face. And all I can really think is how mad Rose is going to be when she has to fix my make-up. And as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know. I cry harder, but I know how this is going to end.

"_I didn't want this to be the reason you came back,"_ I choke out though my tears. "It's not right that _this_ is what it takes to bring you home."

"Bell…"

"No," I say, and take a deep breath to try and collect myself. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and shake my head. "I don't know if there was ever actually a point that you and I could have made this work, but if there was… it's passed us by. And yeah, it was selfish of me to keep this from you but I'm _not_ sorry. It didn't impact our relationship and it didn't change anything between you and Masen. And if I had told you, you wouldn't have come home because you didn't need to. I didn't _need_ you. I had Garrett. And I still do."

His face is twisted up in pain, like I'm slowly dragging a blade across his skin with every word I speak. I blink as I look at him because I realize that he really has no idea just how much he's hurt me in the past. He has no idea how I really feel because for the past five years, I've been protecting him from my true feelings. And I have no idea why.

The words burn my throat like they have been waiting a long, long time to be spoken out loud. "When you promise me you'll be there, I don't believe you. You abandoned me when I was pregnant with Masen. You promised me you weren't going on that tour, and then you turned around, looked me dead in the eye, and told me you were leaving. You weren't there the day Masen was born – hell, you weren't even on the other end of phone to try and talk me through it. You weren't around for the first year of his life. You released a song that meant more to me than you'll ever know. And maybe to you that seems like it all happened a long time ago, but to me it still hurts like it was yesterday. You hurt me so many times, Edward. And right now I don't have the luxury of trusting you won't do it again."

He draws in a deep breath, haggard and shaking. "You know, Bella, that some people learn from their mistakes."

"And some people keep making the same ones over and over again," I say sadly.

I can't stand the heartbreak I see in his eyes and I find myself avoiding his gaze. "Maybe… maybe we were together in your songs, but Edward… You have to let us go. Move on. I can't be the girl you sing about anymore."

His reply is almost instant, "It won't be like that anymore, Bell. I—"

"You _promise_?" I challenge, the words bitter on my tongue.

His face falls as he drops my hand and runs his fingers through his hair. His voice is weak. "Yeah."

"I made a promise," I say softly, speaking to the ground. "I promised that today I would put on this ridiculous dress, I'd walk down that aisle and I promised Garrett that today I would become his wife."

"Don't do it, Bell," he says, his voice wavering. He can see it all slipping away and he's desperate. "_Please_ don't do this."

"Edward, I love you," I say fiercely. "And maybe that's why I've been so damn afraid of hurting you. But you never chose Masen. You never chose _me_. Wishing you could be around more isn't actually the same as being here! How would it make you feel if I told you that, oh I so wish I could leave here with you today Edward, but I've actually got this really important wedding today and they need me here more than you do."

He swallows hard. "You have to understand what it was like for me, Bell –"

"_No_," I say angrily. "I'm not going to feel sorry for you! You chose that life and you always knew exactly how it was going to turn out."

"If I knew it was going to be like this, I never would have gone," he says sadly.

I laugh bitterly. "That's sure easy to say now."

"Yeah, well it's the truth." His voice is hardly a whisper. "You don't know – I would do _anything_-"

I shake my head and cut him off. "I think I've always had this grand fantasy that one day you were going to show up on my doorstep, with all your bags in tow, telling me you were done with the band and that you were coming home for good. But no matter what you say… I get that it will never happen. You can't give it all up to come home and wait on me. Music is who you are and nothing will change that."

He swallows hard as he looks over at me, his eyes red and shiny in the sunlight. "You don't know who I am anymore, Bell." His voice is hoarse. And suddenly he looks far too old for his age – far older than a mere twenty-five. But we both missed out on a lot of our childhood with the paths we chose. I used to hate him for the fact that he got it all – he saw the world and had all the fame and fortune while I sat alone in a tiny apartment with a crying baby. But now I'm beginning to realize he did me a favor all those years ago when we stood in that dark hallway and he insisted that we could have a family.

He's just been so sad lately. Every picture I've seen is with his hood pulled up and his head down low. I've hardly seen his smile in two years. And that simply breaks my heart more than anything, because I don't want to be the cause of his pain anymore. I don't want to be the one he writes sad songs about or be the reason he can't find happiness. I can't stand to see him like this. I love him. So, so much. And because I love him, I tell him, "Edward… I think it's time you go."

The sound he makes in reaction to my words makes my eyes fill with tears. I fight to hide the sound of my heart shattering when I speak.

"Let me do this. Let me get married. Let me get married and let me go, Edward." My voice begins to tremble and my hands shake in my lap. I close my eyes to hold back the tears as I go on, "You have something right now that millions and millions of people can only dream of. You were born to make beautiful music. The entire world loves you and you have no idea how proud we are of you."

"_Bella_—"

I keep going, despite the way his voice makes it hard for me to speak, "There will always be a place for you in our family but just not… not like this. And I'm sorry that maybe this is the one thing in your life you _can't_ have, I really am. I can't give this to you. But you know Masen will always love you, Edward. Always. And so – so…" my voice cracks and I struggle for a breath. "And so will I."

I almost choke, having a hard time believing I actually have to say these things to him. But I know now that I do love him. And always will. But the thing is, Garrett isn't the bad guy. In fact, he's the really, really good guy. And I love him too.

And unfortunately, we can't always have it all.

If there's one thing the MS has really robbed me of, it's my freedom to take risks. I don't get to place the odds or roll the dice, can't close my eyes and pick a direction like so many other people my age. I've learned to play it safe and plan out every detail and consider every outcome. And, well, choosing Edward would be the biggest risk yet.

"Bell," Edward says, his voice hoarse. "Maybe my words mean nothing to you, but I'm coming home. And I just… before you leave, I need you to know."

I smile sadly and pat his hand. "Sure, Edward," I say. But I don't believe him, because there's a look in his eye that I recognize – a look I saw five years ago, when he dropped to his knees in that dark, empty hall and convinced me that we could have a family. When he convinced me he'd always be there; that he'd give it all up for a baby. That he'd give it all up for me. It was a look of a man so desperate he was willing to say anything to get what he wanted – and I know well enough that there's only one thing in life that Edward really wants. And it's not me.

His face falls when he realizes that I'm not convinced by his words. He clears his throat and shakes his head, and looks at me like there's more to it, like there's something I should know. And when he opens his mouth it looks like he's going to explain but instead he says, "Just… know that I mean it."

"Mean what, exactly?"

"All of it," his says softly.

"Edward…" I sigh and shake my head. "Stop making promises you know you can't keep."

And when I get up, I walk more slowly back to the side door of the church. For the second time, I turn my back and walk away. For the second time, I pretend I don't notice him falling to pieces with every step I take. I leave the box sitting on the bench beside Edward, and this time I don't look back.

.x.

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><p><strong>AN: **I've been asked a few times how many chapters are left - and I expect that this story will finish somewhere in the 20s. So don't lose hope yet, loves :)

Thank you so, so much for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Sooo I actually had full intentions of getting this up before the holiday madness hit us, but then life happened and I took a wee little break, but don't worry I'm getting back into the swing of things now! And though I know it's a little late, I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, a delightfully happy new year, and I hope you hugged your loved ones like mad and have the biggest of dreams for 2013 :)

Thanks to cejsmom for prereading, and Kristina for finding all my mistakes. Don't know what I would do without you wonderful ladies!

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><p><span>Chapter 13<span>

**Summer 2011**

When my eyes lock with Garrett's from across the room, I feel my breath catch in my throat. And when I notice the intensity of which he's watching me as I enter, I find myself frozen in the doorway for a moment. Only then does it really hit me – the reason why I'm here and the words I'm about to say, the ones that will forever change us both. I begin to force my feet forward, taking one small hesitant step, and then another and another until I'm close enough to reach out and brush my fingers along the fabric of his suit jacket. I take a deep breath and the smell of him fills me, comforts me.

"Hi," I breathe softly, my voice so small it sounds like it's drifting in through the vents above us.

He wraps his fingers around mine, his hands warm and soft. "Hey," he whispers back. He watches me, eyes full of unwavering adoration.

"You don't look all that surprised to see me," I note quietly, my lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. "Am I really that predictable?"

"No," he says softly, and he runs his fingers down the skin of my cheek. "Just the opposite, actually."

And I just look up at him, tears burning my eyes. I place my hand over top of his and pull it down, squeezing it as I hold it between us. He shivers, like I'm able to convey everything I'm feeling with just a single touch. And oh, how I hope he feels it. How I hope he _knows_.

"You're really sure about this?" he asks, his eyes searching my face for the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Yes." I look down as I gather myself, and when I look back up to meet his eyes I can feel the resolve swelling in my chest. "I'm sure."

**.x.**

_Earlier…_

Back inside the church, Charlie is still sitting in the same place that he was when I left him. I can tell he's surprised to see me as I slip back through the door, though he does his best to hide it. He's reading a newspaper but stands as I enter, folding it and then slipping it under his arm as he gets to his feet.

"Bells," he says, "I thought they were gonna have to start without you." He tries to lighten the mood but I can feel him watching me carefully. "You get everything sorted out?"

I half shrug and shake my head. "I'm not the one who breaks promises," I say weakly, and somehow that's enough to explain everything. "Are the girls ready? I guess we should probably round everybody up." I take deep breaths and avoid eye contact with my father. I'm on the verge of tears, feeling like I've set something into motion that I no longer have the power to stop.

"Yeah, I can go find them." He hesitates at the small bureau near the door and sets the newspaper down there as he turns to face me. He pulls on his collar a bit as he speaks, uncomfortable in his suit but not one to complain about it. "Now Bells, I'm not saying there's a right or a wrong choice here… but just because your old man lost the love of his life doesn't mean you have to."

Tears prick my eyes and I shake my head. "Dad," I begin, but he cuts me off.

"You know, there's something about your mother that I never did tell you." He pauses and just looks at me, like he's trying to decide if now is a good time for stories. He clears his throat and continues, "She was engaged once, before I knew her."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Dad – what…? Mom was engaged?"

He nods. "To her high school sweetheart. His name was Billy… She called off the engagement after a few months – knew it just wasn't right. You know she felt awful, your mother, for breaking his heart like that. But he met someone else, a few years later. Got married, had a family. He's been with her for almost twenty-five years, and they're great together, you know? Real happy. And your mother, well, somehow she found me. And you know how much I loved her."

I swallow hard and avoid looking at my dad, because even though I was young when my mom passed, he still talks about her all the time. I used to be jealous that Charlie got to have so much of her and all I had were some old photographs and the stories he'd share with me over dinner. But as I got older and all around me my friends parent's fought and split up and said and did these awful things to each other, I realized that I was lucky. I was lucky to have a father who loved his wife, even if she wasn't around anymore.

"Anyway, Bells, what I'm tryin' to say is don't you feel bad about breaking someone's heart, because if it's not right then it's not right. And you're probably doing you both a favor anyway. Everybody finds someone in the end."

I smile through my tears and shake my head. "When did you become such a romantic, old man?"

"I guess that's what happens when someone pins purple flowers to your suit jacket," he smiles and pulls me in for a hug. "You know I just want you to be happy, Bells."

"Dad…" And I'm glad he can't see my face as I answer. "I _am_ happy."

He pats me awkwardly on the back a few times as he steps back and clears his throat. "Well… I'll go get Masen and we'll wait for you out there, sweetie," he says as his fingers drum the wooden top of the bureau. For some reason it seems like he's in a hurry to get out of here, and I wonder if I really am that big of a mess that my own father can't bear to be around me for very long. He leans in and kisses my forehead and absently pats the newspaper before he turns to walk through the door. "I love you, Bells."

"I love you too," I say, and feel my lips curl up as I watch him leave, but by the time he's gone so is my smile.

I sit down at the bureau, carefully avoiding my own reflection and instead stare through the mirror and watch the clock that hangs from the wall at the back of the room. It must be some sort of industrial standard because it reminds me of the one that was in the basement of the church where my father used to attend mass on Sundays. The Cullen's also attended that church, and when I was younger Edward and I used to go to Sunday school in the basement during the service. We would spend almost the entire time staring at the clock, willing it to move faster and counting down the seconds until we would be free once more to shed our restricting Sunday clothes race our bikes around the block or work on our tree fort in his backyard.

Now I'm wondering if all those years of urging that minute-hand forward has somehow paid off because now it seems to be moving abnormally fast. There are less than fifteen minutes until the ceremony begins and I watch the seconds slip by, wondering how I'm going to manage to get up there and convince myself and everyone else in attendance that I'm making the right choice.

I realize could also use my bridesmaids' chiffon-covered butts in here right now to convince me of the same.

I let out a long breath, and glance down at the newspaper my father left lying on the tabletop, eager for a distraction. It's lying upside-down so I flip it over and my heart freezes when I see the photo, front and center of the first page of today's Entertainment section.

_Edward_.

I hardly have time to process it before I quickly flip the paper back over and shove it to the far corner of the bureau top.

It makes sense, I guess. They're wrapping up a big tour tonight in Portland. And yeah, it's usually a pretty big deal when BVK is anywhere within a 500 mile radius of Seattle, so it's not that surprising the media is covering the hype.

But, Jesus, sometimes it just feels like he's everywhere.

I live a life that is haunted, haunted by the reminder of him – of _us_. I look into the eyes of the beautiful little boy he fathered every single day when I tell that little boy how much I love him. The soundtrack of Edward Cullen is on constant repeat in the back of my mind, and it seems as if I can't turn a corner without a reminder of him looming somewhere in the distance. He's so engrained in my life – in who I am – that even though I know I told him to let me go, I know I told him to move on… I know how truly impossible that task is.

And I have to fight the urge to take a second peek at the photo, because right now I don't want to have to see that look on his face —see the unabashed joy on the face of a man who is standing exactly where he is meant to be. It should make this all easier, but right now it all just aches.

Charlie should know better than to leave something like that laying around on a day like today.

A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts. I look around and for a moment I've forgotten where I am and just what exactly it is I'm about to do. I take a deep breath and it brings me back here, to the church, in the dress. I'm here and Edward's gone and I let him go.

Whoever it is on the other side of that door knocks again and I weakly call out, "Yeah?"

The door opens Rose pokes her head in, her long hair in waves and her pink lips forcing a smile. Her hand wrapped tightly around the door frame as she leans across the threshold. My face feels like stone and I can't even muster up the energy to return the fake smile she's giving me.

"Hey," she says hesitantly, and the smile falters on her lips when she sees my face. "Everything okay?"

I nod my head and then shrug. Rose watches me carefully as she comes to sit down on the bench beside me. She doesn't say a word as she smooths out her lilac-colored bridesmaid's dress and lets out a long breath. Her nails lightly tap the bench as she waits for me to make the first move.

"My dad just told me my mom was engaged," I say, and my voice just sounds so, so tired to my own ears. "Before Charlie was engaged to her, she was going to marry some guy named Billy. But she called it off, apparently. And I get that it's supposed to be all poetic, or whatever, but shit. Yeah, my dad sure loved my mom. But maybe that Billy guy did, too. Maybe Charlie has no idea just how much Billy's heart broke when my mom left him, has no idea what he went through, or how many years he spent haunted by her memory. Maybe this Billy still thinks the he and my mom were meant to be. Maybe to him, she's the one that got away. Charlie can't _know_ that. All Charlie knows is that he loved my mom. That's what mattered to him. He won, in the end. Maybe my mom would have been just as happy with this Billy guy. Hell, maybe she would have been _happier_—" I begin to choke on the words so I have to stop to gather myself.

"I don't know how this is going to end. I can't say for certain that I love Garrett more than I love Edward. I can't say that I will never regret marrying Garrett, or that I'll never regret _not_ marrying him. I don't know anything for sure, Rose."

"Bella-" She puts her hand on my arm but I shake her off.

"I thought I knew, once. But it was all a lie. And I was _broken _when he left me."

"_Bella_," Rose says, and this time there's a sharp edge to her voice that causes me to pause. Her face softens once she sees she has my attention. "You know I'll be the first to tell you how badly Edward fucked up in the past. I can't even count the amount of times he's hurt both you and Emmett, and you know that the two of you are my _world_. And I'm not defending him… but sometimes Edward's just not _rational_ when it comes to you. I think that everything he's done, it's been out of love. And okay, yes he made some terrible choices. But when it comes down to it, he loves the hell out of you and Mase. You can hear it in his music, Bella, and people connect with that. And that's because we all fuck up but we hold on to that hope… That hope that that one person will love us, regardless of all our mistakes."

"As long as those mistakes are worth forgiving," I say weakly.

She raises an eyebrow and looks at me. "Aren't they?" she asks, "If when he made them, it was what he thought was right?"

I just shake my head, because what does it matter if he's already gone?

"He came, Rose," I say. "He came and I told him to leave. I told him to leave because I am going to marry Garrett, but Rose -" I cut myself off when I realize exactly what words are about to come spilling out of my mouth. My fingers touch my lips, like if I can stop myself from saying it, I won't have to think it either.

Rose squints at me, her brows knitting together. "He came here? Today?"

I nod and wipe a few stray tears.

She actually looks amused for a moment, and I just catch her gaze as she glances quickly down at the newspaper sitting on the tabletop and then back up at me. "Why was he here?"

"Why do you think?" I sigh, and when I see the look she's giving me I shake my head. "Look – I'm still here, aren't I? I didn't go riding off into the sunset with Edward Cullen."

Rose just shakes her head and kind of laughs to herself. "I mean, we all heard the song. I just can't believe he actually showed up…"

"Neither can I," I admit.

Rose quirks her eyebrow as she looks at me sideways, "And I can't believe you actually went to find him."

I roll my eyes and slide the newspaper along the dresser top, further away from me. Like if I get that picture far enough away from me, I'll be able to get him out of my mind.

"Garrett deserves better than me, you know," I breathe softly. "Because I shouldn't be sitting here thinking about Edward when I'm about to marry Garrett. I owe him more than this. This shouldn't be so hard. He's always been there, Ro. For me and for Masen…"

"Yeah, but so has Emmett and Charlie, and Carlisle and Esme, and _me_. And you're not obliged to marry any of us," Rose points out and I snort at her words, unable to fight a smile.

"Bella, you can't help who you love," she says gently, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it lightly.

"But what if I love them both?" I sigh, and I glance at the clock behind me and realize that I'm nearly out of time. Rose follows my gaze and our eyes lock in the mirror. I feel my heart pounding as the reality of what I'm about to do begins to set in. I plead silently, to my best friend, that she can make this right. That she can figure out another way to make a happy ending out of this mess. But she looks about as lost as I feel.

I let out a long breath and run the tips of my fingers over the lace of my dress. I've never felt so out of sorts, and it's not just because of the dress and the fancy hair and all the make-up. I've always liked to think I'm a fairly rational person, but nothing about today seems rational – nothing seems _right. _

"You know you have to make a decision, Bella," Rose says quietly.

"Rose…" I say, shaking my head sadly. The words seem to stick in my mouth, but when I close my eyes I see his face and I realize that maybe it's always been him.

I open my eyes and meet her gaze. "You and I both know that I already have."

**.x.**

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><p><strong>AN: **Thank you guys for coming back after the heartbreak of last chapter, and thanks for continuing to spread the word and leaving your thoughts behind for me!

I should be back to my regular schedule of non-scheduled updates so... see you in about a week! Or even sooner if I can help it, because I know this chapter was a little short and left you a lot hanging. xx


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **As always, a huge thanks to cejsmom for prereading and Kristina for working her beta magic!

Below you'll find the lyrics to the song that started it all - I actually wish I could make it required listening lol. City & Colour is completely amazing and if you don't know the song, go check it out. I promise you won't regret it ;)

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><p><span>Chapter 14<span>

**Summer 2011**

_-present day-_

**.x._  
><em>**

_Well I've seen a palace in London; I've seen a castle in Wales._

_But I'd rather wake up beside you and breathe that old familiar smell._

_I never thought you could leave me, I figured I was the one._

_But I understand your sadness, so I guess I should just hold my tongue._

_I know that we're taking chances; you told me life was a risk._

_I just have one last question: will it be my heart, or will it be his?_

- City & Colour, Comin' Home

**.x.**

_When my eyes lock with Garrett's from across the room, I feel my breath catch in my throat. And when I notice the intensity of which he's watching me as I enter, I find myself frozen in the doorway for a moment. Only then does it really hit me – the reason why I'm here and the words I'm about to say, the ones that will forever change us both. I begin to force my feet forward, taking one small hesitant step, and then another and another until I'm close enough to reach out and brush my fingers along the fabric of his suit jacket. I take a deep breath and the smell of him fills me, comforts me._

"_Hi," I breathe softly, my voice so small it sounds like it's drifting in through the vents above us._

_He wraps his fingers around mine, his hands warm and soft. "Hey," he whispers back. He watches me, eyes full of unwavering adoration. _

"_You don't look all that surprised to see me," I note quietly, my lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. "Am I really that predictable?"_

"_No," he says softly, and he runs his fingers down the skin of my cheek. "Just the opposite, actually."_

And I just look up at him, tears burning my eyes. I place my hand over top of his and pull it down, squeezing it as I hold it between us. He shivers, like I'm able to convey everything I'm feeling with just a single touch. And oh, how I hope he feels it. How I hope he _knows_.

"You're really sure about this?" he asks, his eyes searching my face for the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Yes." I look down as I gather myself, and when I look back up to meet his eyes I can feel the resolve swelling in my chest. "I'm sure."

I know what his eyes say. _Not yet_, he's pleading. _Don't do this. _

_Let's live like this just a little bit longer. _

But it's time to take that next step.

And he knows exactly what my eyes are saying too.

_I'm so sorry. _

Garrett lets out a long breath, and it's like he's struggling to hold on to the air around him, determined to keep the floor beneath his feet.

"So you're really choosing him, then?" he asks, and though he tries so hard to mask it, bitterness seeps into his voice.

I shake my head. "No, Garrett. I'm choosing _me_."

He frowns in disbelief. "He will never be good enough for you."

"And I'll never be good enough for you," I reply sadly.

He drops my hand and shakes his head. "Don't pretend like you're doing me a favor." His voice has a bite to it that I'm not used to hearing. He swallows hard and looks to the side, and I see the tears gathering in his eyes and I catch a glimpse of the pain he's trying so hard to disguise. And I can see again how he flounders, grasping onto the emptiness of the room again to keep him afloat. He glances toward the ceiling, as if to ensure it's still overhead.

"We could have had a good life together, you know," Garrett says, his eyes settling on mine.

I instinctively reach out for his hand, my fingers brushing nothing but air. "I know." My voice is soft.

He looks at me; he looks right through me. My stomach twists and wrings like a towel that has nothing more to give. I feel a jolting ache, realizing I've never really hurt Garrett before, not like this. And it's so much different with him. Edward has caused me a fair share of pain over the years, and it seems easier to break Edward's heart when he's already broken mine.

And yeah, there's still a small part of me that can still see myself marrying Garrett, because I know I would have been happy with him. I can see myself standing before our family and friends and vowing to love him for the rest of my life, because I know that a part of me will always love him. I can see myself becoming his wife, and the two of us being happy together. We would have lived out our lives in peaceful bliss, and I would have been content. But content isn't the word I want to think of when I look back on my marriage. It isn't the word I want to use to describe love to Masen one day. And then I think about last summer, after Edward's show, and how often I think about that night. I think about how I can simply close my eyes and see the way he looked at me I can feel the way his touch made me experience things I'd forgotten.

And maybe I would have been happy enough with Garrett if I hadn't known Edward. If I hadn't known the power of true, all-encompassing love; if I didn't know how it takes weakness and not strength to turn your back and walk away from the one whose initials are carved into the depths of your soul. Maybe I would have been happy enough with Garrett if I didn't know true passion; if I didn't know how it feels to know someone who can turn blue skies bluer with just a crooked smile and whose innocent touch is the spark that lights your body alive from the deepest part of your heart.

I've always known that what Garrett and I have is different than what Edward and I shared when we were young. But I just always chalked it up to the difference between a mature relationship and your first love. And maybe I've tried to convince myself that I've simply grown up and grown out of such consuming, frenzied passion. That my heart didn't need to feel that way anymore.

But last Fall… we changed everything in that backstage dressing room.

And I knew exactly what I was doing when I walked away. I was closing that heavy steel door, the one that had always bridged the small gap between Edward and I, the one that had managed to wedge itself open through everything. I locked that door and handed Garrett the key.

And sometimes at night I still pound on that door until my fists bleed.

But Edward gave up, and Masen would cry because he missed his father. And I promised myself never, never ever would I go back. I'd give Masen a father who would never run, who would never throw himself so deeply into music that he'd forget the world spinning around him. I'd give Masen a father who would look after his mom, so that one day he didn't have to do it himself.

And then, like it always does, everything changed again with just a simple song.

"You're going to make someone really happy one day, Gare," I say. "And I'm really sorry that that someone is not going to be me. But when you find her – and I have no doubt in my mind that you will – you'll understand why I have to do this."

He shakes his head. "Maybe you're right, Bella," he says. "But maybe you're not. I just wish… I wish I could have been enough for you."

"Don't say that," I whisper as I finally grasp the warmth of his hand and hold it tightly in mine. "It's not that you're not enough – Gare, you're amazing, and you deserve so much better than what I can offer you."

"I would have taken anything you had to offer me," he says, his eyes burning with sincerity.

I shove my hands into the pockets of the jeans I've changed into and take a deep breath. I know he would have taken anything I could give him and given me everything in return. But that's not how this is supposed to work. I don't love him back like he deserves; he gives me his whole heart and I can only offer him the pieces of mine. And one day it will catch up with us. And when it does, the pain will be so much worse then than it will be right now to just let go.

"Gare…" I sigh. "I know you would have. But you shouldn't have to settle – it's not fair to either of us."

I watch his reaction, and I can practically see the battle going on in his head – the one where he was trying to decide whether to put up a fight or to let me go. I feel the ache in my chest intensify – the last thing I wanted to do was cause anyone pain, and now I've officially managed to hurt not one, but two people who have nestled themselves deep into my heart over the years.

"Maybe we rushed into all of this," I say sadly. "We were just both so scared when we found out about the MS, and this seemed like the only way to make it right. I don't doubt how much I love you. But…" My voice trails off and I bite my lip. Even though I can't say it out loud, it's enough.

"I wish that you didn't need him," Garrett says, his voice trembling. He's a mirror of me, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants as he begins pacing. "I've always tried so hard to fill that hole he left in your life, and I wish that what I could give you would be enough for you to forget about him."

"Garrett, Edward's the father of my son; he'll always be a part of my life."

Garrett stops and shakes his head. "Maybe he _fathered_ Masen, but he's never been much of a father."

"I think it's up to _me_ to decide how good or bad of a father Edward has been," I say fiercely. It feels so strange to be defending him, but Edward's mistakes are mine to forgive.

"Bella, he walked away when you were six months pregnant with his child. How can you _possibly_ forgive someone who does that?"

I shake my head, frustrated. "You have to believe me when I say that this isn't about that. I don't know if I will ever be able to love him like I did, but it's not fair that I hold on to you while I figure it out."

He just shrugs. "You can say that as much as you want, but I don't believe you. It's _always_ been about Edward."

"Well, what did you expect," I feel myself snap. "When you moved your things into _his_ apartment? When you fell in love with _his_ son and _his_ ex-girlfriend? Did you think you could just slip into his life and we would all just forget about the one whose place you were taking?"

"He left!" Garrett cries. "You needed somebody and_ I_ loved you. And all I wanted was to be enough for you!"

"Well, you weren't," I say through clenched teeth, and I hate myself for saying it the moment the words pass my lips. But this is how it's going to go. Hurt him, wound him, make him hate me now so he'll hate me less when I walk out that door.

Hurt the one who has never done me any harm.

Hurt the one who could never even imagine breaking my heart.

Hurt the one who has always, always been there for me.

He looks like he's been socked in the stomach, his eyes widen and he almost gasps before his face hardens again in anger.

"I should have known all along," he seethes. "And maybe everyone here will think I'm the fool, but Bella, I know better. I know who the true fool is. And you're crazy if you think walking out of here is going to change anything for him. You're a _fool_ if you think he's really ever going to come home." He spits out the words, his face turned up in disgust. "He's an addict. He gets his fix on the stage, and I know you see it on his face – every second he spends up there just gets him higher." And then he almost looks guilty when he says, "Bella, he loves the music more than he loves you."

Tears cloud my eyes and I shake my head because he's wrong wrong wrong.

"And if you think that hurting me is going to make it easier for you to walk away, then fine. Go ahead." He spreads his arms wide and takes a step back, challenging me. "But walking away is only hard because you know you're making the wrong choice."

I wrap my arms around myself as I continue to shake my head.

I wipe away the tears the moment they hit my cheeks. But looking up at Garrett through blurred vision almost seems right because I feel as if I'm looking at the face of a stranger. I've never encountered this side of him before. Hell, I've only seen him angry a handful of times and it's never been directed toward me. And every instinct tells me to leave. To protect myself and walk away. And I'm almost gone, I almost move to flee when his words stop me in my tracks.

"So you can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?" he scoffs, but his voice grows softer as he releases his final blow. "Heaven forbid anyone hurt poor, abandoned Bella."

I swear there's an audible crack in the air as everything shifts.

My eyes narrow at the stranger facing me and feel the strength swell in my chest. It's the same strength I first felt the moment my baby boy was placed into my arms for the very first time. The moment I realized _I did this_. The moment I looked up and only saw who was missing and realized _I can love him enough for two of us. _It's the strength I felt when my baby was six weeks old and his father came to see him for the first time, when Edward scared us so bad. It grew as I looked into eyes I hardly recognized and realized _I can protect us from anything. Even this. _It's the empowering feeling of independence that got me through a year of no contact, no phone calls, no visits. It was a strength that told me, _You. Can. Do. This. _It's a strength that enabled me to let go, to let someone else in.

And it's the same strength that fled the moment I heard the doctor utter the diagnosis. All it took was two simple words to change not only the way I lived my life, but it altered the person I had been; the person I would become.

The strength was gone and suddenly I couldn't even lift myself from my chair without his hands to help me. So when Garrett got on one knee and asked, I said yes, because I forgot the strength and independence and determination I once had. I forgot that once, I could take on the world.

Suddenly I was only strong enough to make it through one day at a time. I was only determined to make sure I never had to go it alone. And I was convinced I needed him. I needed someone that would be there, right in front of me. Always.

I was weak and I hid in the shadows and stopped dreaming and somehow I ended up here.

"_Hurt me, Garrett,"_ I whisper fiercely. _"I can take it." _

He almost laughs, because he's seen the person I've become.

I've put myself in a bubble since the day I found out. _No stress_, I'd plead and I'd distance myself from everything hard and ugly. I'd agree because I didn't want to argue. I'd sit at home when I really wanted to be out. I made excuses and I told myself _he's good for me. He's safe. _And the one time I did take a risk, I paid the price of an attack and an arm that was all but useless and I promised myself never again. But today I'm tired of safe, I'm tired of the bubble. I'm breaking all the rules.

"Tell me," I say louder, standing taller. "Tell me I'll end up alone. Tell me he'll never love me like he loves the spotlight. Tell me I'm sad and I'm damaged and I'm a _burden_. Say it."

"Bella-"

"Tell me you believe you're the only one who will take care of me. _Tell me!"_

Finally, he spits it out. "You're not the same girl he thinks you are – you've lost your fire. I see him all over your face. I always have. He's in your eyes and your heart and it doesn't matter that you love him more than you love me because you're too weak to walk away from me. You _need_ me."

"I don't," I say.

"You will," he vows.

I narrow my eyes. "Why?" I ask him. "Why are you so determined to love someone who will never love you back completely?"

He shakes his head sadly. "Why are _you?"_

I swallow his words, but I don't reply because if he knows how wrong he is, it'll break him. Because all these years… Garrett has so busy watching me when Edward is around, that he doesn't see it. He doesn't see the look in Edward's eye when we say good-bye, or the way he squeezes me just a little tighter every time we hug, or how his touch lingers whenever we're close.

Garrett only saw what he wanted to and, hell, we're all guilty of that.

And the abrupt silence surrounds us, breaks us down and devours the hostility and bitterness in long gulps. But as the anger fades it's replaced by a wave of sadness and heartache that settles in like the stillness in the air after a summer storm.

I watch as Garrett shakes his head slowly in disappointment, and when I see the hurt that's swimming in his eyes I know I've never hated myself more.

In our time together, he's been nothing short of perfect. He's warmth and comfort and safety and absolutely everything I need. He would have been so, so good for me. But he's not what I want, and I'm tired of lying to myself. And maybe the only thing I really know for sure is that my heart belongs to one beautiful little boy.

After Masen came into my life, I realized very quickly that it was up to me to protect him; to protect _us_, to keep _us_ safe, because that was what mattered. And I thought that protecting us meant keeping Edward at a distance – not letting him back in, not giving him another chance to hurt us. I never realized that being with Garrett was just another way of protecting us – he'd never hurt me or Mase, he'd be there, we'd be safe.

But it's like this: if Garrett is the smile on Masen's face, then Edward is the light and happiness behind the smile.

"Bella," Garrett's voice cracks and he swallows hard before he tries again. "Bella, what changed? Yesterday you were ready to become my wife. What changed between then and now?"

I let out a long breath, because it's not an easy question to answer.

Maybe a lot of things changed; maybe nothing.

It wasn't the hair, the dress, or the make-up. It wasn't staring into the mirror and seeing a stranger looking back at me. It wasn't the taste of whiskey on my breath and the way it brought me back, or that small moment when I told my father I was going out to get some air. It wasn't that feeling of not knowing which direction to run, or the pounding of my heart when I saw the small box on the bench. It wasn't the way I jumped when I heard his voice. It wasn't anything Edward said, or didn't say. It wasn't the pain of walking away from him for a second time and realizing I could never do it again. It wasn't Charlie's story about my mom or anything Rose said to me. It wasn't the moment I realized that I knew – I knew I would be walking out of this church today alone. It wasn't watching the years I spent convincing myself otherwise crumbled before my eyes, or seeing the wall I built to protect our hearts laying in ruins at our feet.

It wasn't any of those things; it was all of them.

"Nothing _changed_," I say, emphasizing the word, the hardest truth. "I was never ready for this."

A shadow clouds his face and I know what he's thinking.

"It hasn't been a lie," I promise him. "I loved you, Garrett – and I still do. And if I owe you anything for everything you've done for me, it's walking away today instead of becoming your wife."

He laughs, but he's not amused.

"_I'm sorry_," I say. "I'm sorry that you don't believe that this _isn't_ just about him. I'm sorry that it took me until right now to figure this all out and I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. But I'm _not_ sorry for not marrying you, because it would have been a mistake and I know that one day you'll understand."

"Bella, the thing is… you seem to know what's best for everyone but yourself. And I just don't know what to do. Do you want me to fight harder for you? Is that… is that what you want?" And he just looks so damn lost that my heart breaks just a little bit more.

"Gare, you shouldn't have to fight for this."

His face falls and he whispers, "_I'm sorry_," and I don't get how he can possibly be the one apologizing. "We shouldn't be… _You_ shouldn't be like this. The _stress_, Bella."

I almost laugh, but I let out a long breath instead. Because I won't tell him the truth. I won't tell him that the only stress is the realization that we got this close. That I let it get this far. That in the long run, a marriage would have caused me more stress than this is right now.

"You don't have to worry about me," I tell him.

He just looks up at me, and his face says, _yes I do. _

"_Not anymore,"_ I say gently.

He only flinches and looks down, staring at his empty hands.

I feel my breath catch in my chest as my throat tightens, and wish it didn't hurt so much to witness a grown man cry.

"You know, I never thought I would be this person," I confess, my voice hardly a whisper. I wipe away the tears as I say, "I never imagined I'd walk out of my own wedding."

I can see Garrett struggling to swallow. "You don't become that person until you walk out those doors, Bella."

"Garrett…" I plead. "You'd honestly still want to marry me? After this?"

He shakes his head, and I can see all hope of that future finally fade from his eyes. "I just wish _you_ wanted to, Bells. I was just so ready to do this today. And maybe part of this falls on me too, because I only saw what I wanted to. I ignored the light in your face whenever he was around and I ignored that smile you had whenever you talked to him or even just talked _about_ him… I ignored it because I knew he couldn't give you what I could. But I guess it turns out I had it all backwards this whole time."

"Gare, I'm _sorry_," I say, looking into his eyes and hoping he can see how sincere I truly am. Wondering how many times I have to apologize until this starts to hurt just a little less. "I don't know how this would have ended up had we decided we didn't need a wedding. But marriage just seemed so _final… _I guess everything I've been trying so hard to forget, everything I've been trying not to feel just came to the surface. Maybe you were living with us and you were a huge part of our lives, but nothing seemed official until I had the ring on my finger… until I showed up to the church today. Until I put on that dress and looked in the mirror and found myself staring at someone I didn't even recognize. And Gare, I can't… I just can't."

He sighs. "Ironic, isn't it? That had we not decided to do this… we might still be together."

"It's for the best," I try and convince him, or maybe me, I don't know. Because it's so hard to believe that something that hurts so much can be so right.

Garrett nods slowly, like maybe he's getting it. Like maybe he finally hears me. Like maybe this is the exact moment he's giving up.

"Was he here?" he asks, and his voice sounds strung out like the longest notes of a mournful song.

I glance up, but I don't even have to answer. I'm not sure what gives it away, but I know it's a flash of something Garrett sees whenever I'm with Edward.

"Of course he was," he sighs, his fingers raking through his dark curls. "You're not the only one who heard that song, you know. And Bella, deep down you've been waiting for him this entire time. Just like he always knew you would."

"I told him to leave," I say, lifting my chin, like it really makes a difference right now. "I told him to leave and I got up and walked away. So don't think that he's sitting out there in the getaway car – don't think I'm running out of here and into his arms."

His eyes are wide and sad as he says, "Yeah, but Bella… when it comes down to it, you still went to find him."

Tears fall from my eyes but I can only shrug because, yeah, I did.

He paces a bit again, chewing on his lip. "It's just frustrating how this is so _easy_ for him," he mutters. "All he has to do is show up here. All he has to do is leak some _bullshit_ story to the papers-"

I frown in confusion. "What story?"

Garrett stops and watches me carefully. The look on his face, I don't get it. "You didn't see the paper?" he asks in disbelief, blowing out a slow breath.

Suddenly my heart is pound, pound, pounding. I cross my arms over my chest as if to muffle the sound. "I saw it. I saw his picture but I didn't read anything. I thought it was just coverage of the show…" My voice trails off and I look up at him, desperate for answers.

He laughs, kind of. I'm not even certain he actually believes me. "What did it say?" I ask.

"He didn't tell you?" he scoffs. "Wasn't that why he showed up?"

"No. Garrett, I don't… I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

He blows out another long breath and rocks back on his heels. "Huh," he says, like maybe this is somehow amusing to him. "I just assumed that's why you changed your mind…" His voice trails off, like he's begun to question everything that's just be said.

I shake my head. "What did it say?" I demand again, but yeah maybe I know. Maybe he already tried to tell me. And maybe I just didn't believe him.

He raises his eyebrows and gestures towards the door dismissively. "I think you should find out for yourself," he says.

I hesitate – like I haven't been begging him to let me go this entire time. "Gare—"

"Just go, Bella," he says more forcefully this time, but his shoulders sag with his words. When I don't budge, he doesn't say anything for a moment, his eyes searching my face for some kind of sign that this is all just some kind of mistake. And we stand there, hardly breathing, until finally he reaches out and pulls me into his chest. Tears are free-falling down my face when he leans down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. And I realize I was wrong last summer when I walked out of Edward's dressing room after his show – that wasn't a goodbye kiss at all.

_This_ is goodbye.

"Garrett – I'm so sorry," I gasp, wondering just how many apologies are going to make this all okay. But he just holds up his hand and waves me towards the door. I realize what he's doing – he's fighting to keep it together, for me. Every bit of my being tells me to stay – tells me that I can't leave him like this. I owe him, I owe him _this. _But when he finally chokes out, "Just go, Bella," I turn on my heel and leave yet another man that I love falling to pieces as I walk away.

**.x.**

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><p><strong>AN: **thank you thank you for reading. xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Hey gang! I apologize for the delay in getting this posted. Ah, real life and junk, ya know? But thanks for being patient with me :)

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><p><span>Chapter 15<span>

**Summer 2011**

_-present day-_

I don't process much of anything as I exit the church, struggling to keep from falling apart. I know that somewhere along the way I pass the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, Esme, Carlisle, and other stragglers whom I don't even register as my feet try to outrun each other in their attempt to get me out of there as quickly as possible. I don't slow down or hesitate as I ignore their questioning stares and shocked expressions.

But the thing is, they all let me go. No one tries to stop me.

When I finally push my way through the heavy front doors that lead out into the parking lot, I have my hand covering my mouth as I choke back sobs. I fight to gulp down the fresh air, as if my lungs are weighted with water. I can feel my body folding into itself and my shoulders and back shudder with the effort of holding it all in. By the time I've stumbled down the front steps and into the parking lot, I'm biting down on my fist in an attempt to stifle the sounds that are somehow still escaping from somewhere deep inside of me.

But when my feet hit the gravel, I feel as if I've hit a wall and everything I've been trying to hold back comes erupting out at once. My entire body trembles as the tears begin to fall. A small sob turns into a hiccup, and soon I'm crying like I haven't cried in years – crying like I haven't since I was sobbing in a bed of broken glass and torn magazines on the floor of the old apartment.

I cry for Garrett, for Edward, for every single person sitting inside that church who will soon be told it's time to go. I cry for my mistakes, for truth and honesty, I cry for everything for the last five years. I cry for me, for my incurable disease, for my aching, aching heart. I let go and I _cry_.

And I don't even know how long I stand there until I hear what is maybe the only sound that has the power to snatch me from the depths of my hysteria and pull me to the surface.

The crunch of something light moving quickly across the gravel parking lot and then, "…Momma?"

A gasp passes through my lips as I wipe at my eyes to find Masen standing at my feet. His beautiful copper hair is a mess, his brown eyes are wide as he blinks up at me.

"Oh, baby."

I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around my boy, rocks digging into my knees, my chest still shuddering as he leans into my embrace. His hands find their place around my middle and he holds on tight as I lift him off his feet to hold him better in my arms.

I hold him so tight I'm afraid for a moment that I'm hurting him. But when he nuzzles himself further into my chest, I blink up at the sky as the tears roll more slowly down my cheeks. I hold my boy, my universe, my everything in my arms and I never want to let go.

"Baby, you look so handsome," I choke out, running my hands down the sleeves of his tiny little tux jacket. And I ask, "What are you doing out here?" when it occurs to me that he's supposed to be inside with the guys. I sniffle, the world slowly beginning to come back into focus as I try to wipe my eyes dry.

"I told you we'd wait out here for you," comes the reply, and I look up to see Charlie standing over us. Though his tone is consoling, his moustache twitches and I think he's trying really hard to not look proud of himself.

"Dad…" I choke, my eyes filling with tears all over again as I stand with Masen in my arms and fall into my father's waiting embrace. He holds me so tight that I have to wonder if he's thinking the same thing I just was when I held Masen.

They say there's some things about your parents you just don't understand until you become a parent yourself.

I'm pretty sure this is one of them.

"Grampa let me throw rocks," Masen says, his voice muffled because his face is pressed between mine and Charlie's bodies. And just like that I'm snorting in laughter.

"Really?" I ask, and my father kisses the top of my head before I crouch to set Masen back on the ground.

"He said I couldn't hit the signs, but I did," Masen says proudly, looking up at his grampa as if to confirm. I straighten Masen's jacket as I follow his gaze.

"He also said to not tell anyone," Charlie replies, a twinkle in his eye.

"You know, for a cop, you're a pretty bad influence on the kid," I sniffle again, eyeing Charlie as I stand. "I'm going to call you when he's sixteen and it's beer bottles he's throwing at street signs."

"Not my jurisdiction," he says with a knowing smile. "Besides, I better be long retired before the time Masen's old enough to drink a beer."

"I can drink a beer," Masen interjects.

I look down at him and find myself laughing as I wipe my eyes. "Not yet, you can't," I say, ruffling his hair.

"Yeah I can," he insists. "I'm almost _five_ years old, Momma."

"That's a long way from beer drinking age," I say, taking his hand. Charlie has started weaving his way through the cars in the parking lot, so I follow. "How about you stick to juice for a little while longer?"

He gives in, pouting. "_Fiiine_."

"Oh come one, it's not so bad," I say. "You're always telling me how much you love apple juice."

"Can I have some now?" he asks, brightening.

"Uh… How about we stop on our way home?"

"'Kay," he agrees.

"'Kay," I repeat with a smile as I squeeze his hand. Then I dig a Kleenex from my back pocket and wipe my nose. Masen is watching me as we weave through the parking lot.

"Are you sick, Momma?" he asks.

I smile as I ball up the tissue and shove it back into the pocket of my jeans. "Just a little sad, baby."

"Don't be sad," he says, reaching again for my hand. And he sounds so genuinely concerned that I almost tear up again.

"Sometimes it's okay to be sad," I tell him.

"Like when I get sad 'cause Grandma Esme makes me eat all my broccoli's before I get ice cream?"

I laugh. "No, that's different because broccoli is good for you, you goof."

Masen seems to ponder this for a moment. "How 'bout when I get sad 'cause Daddy goes away?"

I look down at him, and it takes me a second to catch my breath. "Then it's okay," I tell him softly. "Because you love Daddy."

"I love ice cream too," he says matter-of-factly.

I laugh loudly and mess up his hair again. "You're way too smart to be my kid," I tell him, and he grins in response. When I look up, I see Charlie has stopped beside his old red pick up. It's the same one I learned to drive on when I was sixteen. I grimace when I see it.

"You drove that all the way from Forks?"

Charlie shrugs as he pats the hood. "Even this old gal needs to stretch her legs once in a while." And then he looks at me, and he doesn't even have to say anything for me to know exactly what he's asking.

"Let's go," I say softly.

He doesn't ask me if I'm sure, he doesn't ask if I'm okay, or if I'm going to be okay. He just pops open the door and helps Mase get in the backseat before sliding behind the steering wheel. I take a deep breath before walking around to the passenger side, my hand hesitating on the handle for just a fraction of a second before I pull it open and climb in.

Any moment now, everyone will know. They'll be filing back out of the church, or staying to collect the flowers and the dress and the decorations, thinking they know, or knowing they don't. Wondering why. Maybe some people will be upset, some might even be annoyed we wasted their time. Perhaps they'll catch a glimpse of this old red truck as it pulls out of the parking lot, and they'll wonder_ how? How could someone possibly do that? _

Garrett will drink with his friends, because that's how they'll take care of him. I'll go home and pack his things, because that's how I'll take care of me. And Garrett's friends will try and make him feel better, but they won't be lying when they swear that I don't deserve him and that it's all for the best. The guests that leave here today, they'll call their friends, their parents, their coworkers and tell them, _remember that wedding I went to today? You'll never believe what happened… _

And for the briefest of moments, I'm so aware of the future. It just seems so clear; I'm so _sure_.

Rose might come by with wine and Emmett might stay with Garrett. Rose will wonder about her own wedding day. Emmett will think about his brother. But tonight they'll go home and lay in each others arms and wonder if they're bad friends for not stopping this sooner, for not speaking up, for not trying harder to convince us.

They'll wonder if they could have made a difference, just to avoid the hard truth that there was nothing they could have done.

Masen and I will sleep in his bed tonight because sleeping in mine seems wrong. Charlie, he'll probably spend the night and make us breakfast in the morning – scrambled eggs and burnt toast, and then he'll swear my toaster is defective.

There's only one future that remains unmapped in my mind. One last question that needs answering.

"Hey, Dad?" I ask just before he reaches down to put the truck in gear.

He pauses as he glances over at me.

"Can we stop at a gas station on the way? I… promised Mase I'd get him some juice."

Charlie nods and shifts the truck into first. "Sure thing, sweetie."

Our future is meant to be a mystery. It's supposed to be unpredictable. But there are always details that we are unconsciously certain of – the smallest events that never catch us off guard, the ones we take for granted. It's knowing that you're going to drink a cup of coffee on the way to work in the morning and that you'll eat dinner when you get home. Or that you'll cry at the ending of _Pay it Forward._ Or that you'll tell your kid "good game" after soccer, no matter how well they played. Some things _are_ for certain. People are predictable; certain events are bound to happen.

Like how, when Charlie pulled the old truck out of the parking lot and left a small cloud of dust in our wake, I looked in the mirror and knew that one of the biggest, hardest, most important days of my life was over.

The thing about life though, is that we aren't meant to see into our futures. There's no point if we get up in the morning and know exactly what to expect of our day. As much as we try and convince ourselves otherwise, nothing is ever actually for certain. Because along the road of the predictable events that lead us from one day to the next, the smallest of bumps can throw us completely into the unknown.

I thought the worst was over.

I had no idea it was only about to begin.

**.x.**

Charlie pulls into the parking lot of a 7-11 when the church is a good ten minutes behind us. Masen is asking a hundred questions about today: _Momma, what about the wedding? Where's Garrett? Do we still getta dance tonight? Am I still having a sleepover at Grandma Esme's? Why are you crying, Momma? _

I'm doing my best to answer all his questions as diplomatically as possible. I don't know how much of it he really understands, but he always manages to surprise me. So I try and be as honest as possible. _No baby, _I tell him, _we're not having a wedding anymore. It's just going to be you and me for a while, baby. We can still have a dance party at home. And maybe you can have a sleepover at Grandma's tomorrow night. _

I don't know if he gets it, really. But he sits back and seems to silently ponder what I've told him. Then finally he says, "Okay, Momma. I love you."

Tears fill my eyes but I smile so big when I tell him, "I love you too, sweetie." And when Charlie pulls the truck into the parking lot, I flip down the visor and wipe the dust from the vanity with my fingertips before checking my reflection.

And really, it's about as bad as I expected. My eyes are red, puffy. My make-up is all but cried off. I dampen my fingers and wipe under my eyes a few times, like it really makes a difference. I take a deep breath, and I'm still kind of stuffy and gross and my sinuses feel like they're stuffed with cotton. My reflection doesn't lie about all that I've been through today – I look like hell and my eyes feel like if I closed them for longer than a blink I'd have to fight to open them again. But the thing is, despite how shitty I look, I've never felt more like myself.

"Do you want me to go in…?" Charlie asks, and I can feel him watching me as he puts the truck in park.

"It's okay," I say, flipping the visor back up. I unbuckle my seat belt and twist around so I'm facing Masen. "I'm going to get you some juice," I tell him. "Do you want to come in with me?"

Masen nods enthusiastically and I lean into the back to help him out of his seat belt.

"We'll be right back," I tell Charlie as I open the door and climb out, Masen on my heels. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm okay," Charlie dismisses me, his eyes unconsciously scanning the parking lot for any signs of trouble like the good police chief he is.

"All right," I say, and the rusted door squeaks and groans loudly in protest when I close it behind me. Masen seems to find this amusing, because he's giggling when I reach down to take his hand.

"It sounds like a monster," he grins, mimicking the sounds until we reach the front doors. "Doesn't it sounds like a monster, Momma?"

"I think you're the only monster here," I joke, leading him towards the back of the store where the coolers are. "Now, what kind of juice do you want?"

He goes for a Monster energy drink and I laugh. "There's no way you're getting one of those, my little monster."

"It's what Daddy drinks," he argues.

"And does Daddy ever let you try it?" I ask, wandering farther down the aisle where the bottles and cans aren't so pumped full of sugar and caffeine.

"No," he admits with a frown.

"Exactly," I say. "Now how about some apple juice? Or look at this, peach and raspberry. That sounds good, don't you think?" I grab one for myself and a second one for Charlie because I know he'll change his mind and drink half of mine once we're back in the truck.

Masen's face is pensive as he contemplates the rows and rows of beverages. I watch him and my heart clenches like it does every time he gets that look. His expression is exactly the same as his father's, and I feel like I'm looking down at a mini-Edward.

"How 'bout… chocolate milk?" Masen finally asks, his face brightening.

"Sure," I agree, grabbing him one and tucking the bottles under my arm.

"Can I have a candy, Momma?" he asks when we pass the sweets on our way to the cash register.

I purse my lips. "Just one," I tell him. "And you have to share with me and Grampa." He grabs a pack of red Skittles and just kind of shrug to myself. We don't eat a lot of candy, and I've always had a soft spot for Skittles.

Just before we reach the front, I pass the bin where today's papers are stacked. I hardly glance at it before I slide one stealthily under my arm, like it's no big deal. Like whatever is inside there won't change everything.

Masen tugs on my shirt. "Momma, look! It's Daddy!" And my heart kind of freezes before I realize he's pointing at the paper under my arm. He's on the front cover too? _Jesus_.

The cashier has her eyebrows raised as I place our items on the counter, and I give her my most polite smile. I know how this looks. It's not the first time Masen's told strangers his father is Edward Cullen and they look at me like I'm deranged for letting my son believe such nonsense. Last trip to Wal-Mart, Mase pointed out the cover of _People_ _Magazine _to the young couple behind us and proudly told them, "That's my Daddy. He plays the guitar." They looked at me and told me I had issues.

And I'd only laughed as I threw the magazine on the cart because they had _no _idea_. _

Once I've paid for our goodies we head back out to the truck and settle ourselves back inside. I pass Charlie the spare drink I grabbed, and he looks grateful. But his eyes are on the newspaper on my lap.

"You know what's in here," I say, and there's no question in my voice.

He nods slowly, like it's just occurred to him that I don't. "And… you, uh, should probably have this, too." He twists and reaches into the back seat, here he pulls something from the pocket behind him. My palms feel clammy when I recognize the small, flat box he passes me.

I kind of laugh, but it sounds nervous and weird. "You went and got this?"

He shrugs. "Thought it might be important. I didn't look inside."

"Thanks, dad," I say softly as I set the box on my lap. Masen starts asking for his milk so I twist off the cap and peel back the seal before I hand it to him.

"Try to not spill it all over Grampa's truck," I tell him with a smirk, because if I know my son there's a pretty good chance half his drink will end up all over the peeling floorboards.

"I won't," Masen promises.

"You're so cleaning that up," Charlie mutters across the bench seat and I roll my eyes.

And once Masen is focused on drinking his milk and Charlie is focused on backing the truck out of the parking space, I take a deep breath and flip over the newspaper. I thumb through the pages until I find the Entertainment section, and I pull it free.

I close my eyes for one, two, three beats and then I look down. I have my thumbnail between my front teeth, and my head quirks to the side as I scan the bold headline. I feel my heart racing, but I know, I _know_. Every muscle in my body feels tensed as I read it again and again and again until the letters begin to form words that slowly begin to sink in and make sense.

Except it still _doesn't_ make sense.

At all.

I read it once more before my trembling fingers unfold the paper and spread it out over my lap.

_Edward Cullen Announces Departure from Black Velvet Kings._

I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as I gingerly run my finger over the crease that runs through the middle of the article. I slowly read each word separately just to be sure my mind's not playing some kind of trick on me. But it's not – there's the same picture I caught a glimpse of earlier and today's date printed in the margin at the top, and this has to be right. I draw in a shaking breath and hardly blink as I begin reading the article:

_Fans of the band are dumbfounded by the announcement that was leaked early Friday evening when Tyler Crowley, Black Velvet Kings bassist and back-up vocalist, let it slip in an interview with _Rolling Stone Magazine_ that tonight's show in Portland would be the end to the band's epic journey together. The band's manager, Jasper Whitlock, confirmed the rumours shortly __afterwards__, delivering the shocking news that "Edward Cullen would be taking a permanent leave from the music industry."_

_Cullen has been lead-singer and guitarist for the band Black Velvet Kings for over seven years, and quickly became an entertainment icon shortly after the band's first studio album was released in 2006. Unlike many over-night success stories, both he and the band have maintained a credible reputation both in the spotlight and out of it. Cullen is well known for his contrasting quiet disposition and extraordinary stage presence, and has remained one of the most respected musicians by peers and fans alike. Though despite Cullen's efforts to stay out of the headlines over the years, the fans and media have always paid special attention to the young star. _

_Insiders are reporting that Cullen's decision to leave the band coincides nicely with the marriage of his ex-girlfriend to former band mate, Garrett Anderson. Fans have already theorized that the timing of Cullen's announcement no coincidence. His ex is rumoured to be the inspiration behind nearly every one of Black Velvet Kings' chart-topping hits and is said to be the reason why Cullen has remained infamously single for the past five years. But regardless of speculation, publications across the globe have begun the scramble to clench an exclusive interview with Cullen and be the first to answer the question on everyone's mind – just what exactly could motivate a man to quit so obviously in his prime?_

_At the time of the time of publication, Cullen was unavailable to comment, perhaps stirring the rumour pot even further. But Whitlock released a statement claiming that "Edward's decision has been weighing heavily on his mind for some time now, and the guys have known since they hit the studio last spring that it would be their last album with [Cullen] as front man. I can assure you there was no headline-worthy falling out or dramatic ending, and after tonight all members will part on good terms." Whitlock also says he is "extremely doubtful" the singer will ever return to the music industry. Fans and musicians alike are trying to reach out to the band and shortly after the announcement was confirmed, Dave Grohl, who toured with Cullen and Black Velvet Kings in 2007 with his band The Foo Fighters, commented on his Twitter that he "is devastated to see one of the good ones leave." _

_The timing of the announcement comes just hours before the band's record-breaking sold out show at the Rose Garden in Portland, wrapping up their worldwide '_Audience of One'_ tour. Ticket value for the show has tripled overnight and continues to climb as the most die-hard of fans try to score a spot in the audience for the very last show for one of the biggest and most legendary bands in rock and roll. Police will be on scene tonight to keep crowds under control, and those who were lucky enough to get tickets for the big show are being directed by to give themselves plenty of extra time as traffic is expected to back-up along the major routes leading to the arena… _

By the time I get to the end, I have tears in my eyes and can't make out the last few lines of the story. I simply stare down at the paper, the black print swimming before my eyes, and the words I've just read ringing in my ears. My stomach is churning and my mouth feels dry and I wonder for a moment if I'm going to get sick. But I don't – I just sit there and look at the picture printed alongside the article. And I mean, this time I really _look_ at it. It's a quarter-page colour photo of Edward, blue and yellow lights illuminating him up on stage and a wide, a contagious grin on his face that makes my heart feel light. He hand is curled tightly around the microphone; and it's taken close enough to see the beads of sweat that seem frozen to his skin in the fraction of time the photo was taken in. And he's just looking out at the crowd like he's trying to breathe in and absorb every last moment of the chaos before him.

As I inspect it, I realize that the caption beneath the photo says it was taken only two nights ago. And if there is any truth to Jasper's statement then this is a photo of a man saying good-bye even though the rest of the world doesn't even know it yet. He knows this will be one of his last shows, one of the last times he'll be up on that stage, one of the last times the crowd will be screaming his name. He's saying his good-bye and yet he's… happy. Happier than I've seen him in years. I trail my fingers down the photo and feel a smile that I can't hold back tug on the corners of my lips.

I wonder why he didn't fight harder to tell me. Obviously he had to have known the story had hit the papers; he had to have known there was a chance I'd find out like this. But the more I think about it, the more I think I get it. Because whoever wrote the article is wrong – it _is _a coincidence that his last show is tonight. This isn't some kind of last-ditch attempt to get me back; it's not some kind of strategy to get me to pick him. It's not about me at all. He wanted out of the game whether or not I married Garrett today.

And the more I think about it, I realize that the signs have been there for years. Hell, maybe they were there all along. And he's tried to tell me – I just haven't been listening.

I remember the look on his face just before I walked away from him behind the church – how there was something he wanted me to know so badly, something he wanted me to see. He wanted me to believe in him when he said he was coming home, but I dismissed it without even a second thought. And I want to be angry with myself for not believing in him, or with him for not trying harder to tell me, but I'm not.

We never could get it right, he and I. And today is no exception.

And I think, maybe, that I get why he didn't tell me he was leaving the band. He didn't use it as a bargaining chip because he didn't want me to choose him just because he was "retiring" – or whatever the hell it is you do when you're a twenty-five year old musician. He wanted me to walk away today because I couldn't stand to be with anyone else but him. He wanted me to give us a chance in spite of the obstacles we'd have to overcome in order to be together. He wanted me to stop my wedding because I couldn't bear the idea of being with Garrett for the rest of my life and never having another chance with him.

I pull the box out from under the newspaper and stare down at it. Despite the fact that it's just a small box, it feels so awkward and heavy. I shift it around between my hands, and though I know there's not much in here**,** there's _so much _in here. I blink down at it and think about his words in the letter that's inside.

_When you have the chance to say something substantial, _he wrote,_ and you let the moment pass you by, the words you don't say can be far more consequential and life altering than the ones you do. _

And I realize that… coming to the church today, it wasn't about everything he said. It was about everything he _didn't _say. It was him letting the moment pass him by. It was about not saying the words that could have changed everything.

Because by not saying them, by not telling me, that makes just as big a statement as it would have had he showed up there today just to tell me the news.

More so, even.

And I think that's maybe when Garrett realized. I think that's exactly when he let go.

Because he got it.

Because Edward, most of all, wanted me to look back on this day knowing that whatever I'd decided… it was for _me_.

There's a tightness in my throat and I have to swallow hard to push it down. I look over at Charlie, who has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift as he navigates the Seattle streets, taking us to my home on the outskirts of the city. And as I watch him I think of how Charlie… and Rose… they had to have known. And maybe they got it too. Maybe it's why Rose didn't put up a fight when I asked her to help me out of my dress. Or why Charlie knew to wait out in the parking lot for me.

"Mom, can I read some news?" I'm pulled from my thoughts when Masen pipes up from the backseat. I turn to see him looking at the paper in my hands, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

I raise my eyebrows back at him, and I feel a thousand times lighter just looking into his face. "You want to read the news?" I repeat.

"Yep."

"Well… what section would you like?" I ask, fighting back a grin.

"Sports, please," he says, and then looks over at Charlie. "Grampa only reads about Sports."

"That is true," I say, looking over at Charlie. And then I lift up my hand and whisper conspiratorially to Masen, "But I think he only looks at the pictures."

Charlie scoffs and Masen nods in agreement.

I pull the Sports section free and hand it back to him. "You gotta let me hold onto your chocolate milk though. You can have it back when you're done."

"'Kay," he agrees, and I trade him and set the bottle of milk in cup holder on the floor between Charlie and I. Masen holds the paper in front of him and stares at the front page, squinting intensely at the print like Charlie does. I hold back a laugh as I turn to face forward. Sometimes I would give anything to see the world the same way Masen does. Charlie is grinning widely as he glances back Masen in the rear-view mirror, and I have to wonder if he's not thinking the same thing. I guess it's kind of amazing how one person can bring so much happiness into your life.

"So, Dad… how did you know?" I ask him curiously. "How did you know to wait outside for me?"

He glances at me quickly, his eyes roaming over the newspaper before they snap back up to the road. "Old man intuition," he tells me with a wink.

"Right," I snort.

Charlie tries to hide a small grin before he clears his throat. "I guess I didn't _know_," he stresses the word, his voice more serious now. "But I do know that I didn't raise a daughter to do something unless she was a hundred percent sure about it. And Bells… I don't think I realized how unhappy you really were until today. I don't think anybody did."

"I don't even think _I _did," I admit quietly.

Charlie doesn't reply, and the humming of the twenty-year-old engine under the hood of the rusted truck fills the silence.

"I feel like crap, but I also feel I did the right thing," I say. "I mean, yeah, the _right thing_ probably would have been letting go of Garrett years ago, but…"

"You can't go back," Charlie finishes for me. He sounds like a man who knows, who lived with many regrets when his wife died far too young.

"Exactly." I take a deep breath, my brain feeling like it's never had so many things to think about at once.

And I'm tired of thinking.

So I look down and reopen the box that sits on my lap. The letter Edward wrote is still folded and sitting on the top, like it had never even been touched at all. I pull it out and run my nail across the fold as I hold it. I wonder if he left this behind on purpose – if maybe he walked away, still hopeful that I'd come back, that I'd change my mind. Or perhaps it was too much to pack it up and take the weight of the reminder with him. Or maybe, maybe he'd just simply forgotten.

But it doesn't matter, not really. Because it still found it's way back to me. And as I set aside the letter with trembling fingers, I find a white, skinny envelope hiding beneath.

I know what's inside before I even touch it. I look down at it and in that moment I know exactly what he wants. And my jaw clenches and for a second I'm angry because he can't actually think I'll do this. He can't think that _today_, after _everything_…

I'm shaking my head in disbelief as I pluck the envelope from the box. It feels heavy though I know it's actually not. And I'm still shaking my head as I slide open the envelope and I pull out four tickets and four backstage passes for tonight's show in Portland. I fan them out in my hands, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry when I see what he's scribbled on a tiny scrap of paper that falls out from between the thin pieces of cardboard.

_There will be twenty thousand people in that audience, and I'll be singing for one. _

It's an invitation, a promise, the hope that keeps propelling us forward.

It's poetry and art and desire all rolled into one.

It's the last whisper of a prayer from the man who thought he had everything.

But it's too much to ask.

Because the tears have hardly even dried, and I can't even entertain the notion of being there right now. I'm exhausted and it's nearly three hours from here and at this moment I just need to take care of myself.

I shove the tickets back into the envelope and reach for my phone to tell Rose I have tickets for her and Emmett if they want them, but I realize I've left it at the church. I'll call her when I get home. Maybe Carlisle and Esme will want to go, too.

They should be there.

It's his last show, after all.

And my eyes well with tears at that thought because _it's his last show. _

And I'm not going to be there.

I'm the same girl who, at one time, never even missed a single rehearsal. And I'm not going to be there for his very last show. And despite everything… it still _matters_.

"Hey," Charlie says gently, and I look up at him with eyes that are swimming with tears. He reaches across the bench seat and squeezes my hand. He sees the tickets on my lap. He knows.

"Dad," I say, my voice cracking. "I keep telling myself it's not about him but it just seems so impossible when he's _everywhere."_

"You should be used to that by now, sweetie," Charlie replies, and I can feel him watching my face for a smile.

I let out a breath and suddenly it's like I can't stop. Like the words _have_ to come out. "You know, I could never let myself consider having a relationship with Edward after he left…" The words get stuck for a moment, but they're still there, and they're fighting their way to the surface. "I guess, I was just so disappointed in him for so long. And even after he started to come around a little more… I didn't want to be the one he got to leave behind. I didn't want to sit around, waiting to hear from him, wondering what he was doing at every moment of the day and wondering in the back of my mind if what he was telling me was the truth. I didn't want to have to pick up a magazine and read the speculation of his relationship status just because he happened to be standing next to some actress long enough for somebody with a camera phone to snap a picture of them together. And it's not that I couldn't trust him, but I don't think I could trust _myself_ to trust him. It's just that I loved him _so much_-" I wince, like it's physically painful to even think about. "And to be honest… I didn't want to have to deal with the pain of missing him all the goddamn time."

Charlie kind of clears his throat, and I don't think he used to me saying so much at once. "But Bella…" he says, and his voice is gruff but his eyes are soft. "Didn't you go through all of that anyway?"

I laugh and dig the heels of my palms into my eyes as I shake my head. He's absolutely right, of course.

"_I just don't know how I feel about him anymore," _I admit, my voice a hoarse whisper. "I don't _know_ him anymore. And he doesn't know me, either. I told him about the MS _today_, and that changes things, whether he wants to admit it or not. And these tickets? I don't get it. I just don't know what he expects from me…"

"Bella," Charlie says. "Maybe he just wanted to give you the option. It's not like he's got a helicopter scheduled to fly you out to the show or anything. Er… he doesn't, does he?" he glances at me sideways and I can't help but smirk as I shake my head.

"Not that I know of, at least."

Charlie looks relieved to see my small smile. "Well, maybe he just wanted to make sure that if you wanted to be there… then you could go."

I shrug, because I guess he could be right. "He just lives in such a completely different reality sometimes. I know he tries, but sometimes the music just takes him so far away. He forgets how the real world works. And this?" I hold up the newspaper and shake it a few times. "This scares the hell out of me." I cringe when I remember Masen in the backseat, but he's so quiet as he clutches the Sports section and stares out the window, lost in his own little world.

So much like his father, that one.

"It's okay to be afraid," Charlie says, and I'm reminded of earlier when I told Masen that it's okay to be sad sometimes.

"I just wish he'd told me," I say, a little bitter. "And before today, I mean. I should have found out before the papers, right? Like he could have told me this spring when he apparently decided all this."

"There could be lots of reasons he didn't say anything," he says gently. "And would it have made a difference, anyway?"

I shrug, and I feel it all beginning to wear me down. Today has been too big. I can only move in so many directions at once, and right now I'm not even certain I know which road leads home.

"I guess I'll never know," I say sadly.

Charlie eases the truck to a stop at a red light and turns so he's facing me. He glimpses down at the envelope, then back up at me. I know what he's thinking. And I look at the clock, doing the math. If we leave right now, we'd make in time for doors.

"So, Bells. Where are we going?" he asks, and it's such a loaded question that I feel like I'm nearly knocked backwards with the force.

I tip my head against the headrest and close my eyes. I let out a long breath that trembles and aches and tugs at my heart.

"_We're going home_," I whisper.

**.x.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Fun fact time? The name of the BVK tour (Audience of One) is inspired by a Cold War Kids song called _Audience_. And the name of Black Velvet Kings is from a misheard lyric of that song. The lyric is actually "black velvet cake" but when I first hear the song I heard "black velvet kings" and thought it was kind of cool. And obviously it stuck :)

I know I know I can't thank you enough for reading. But. Just._ Thank you._


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**Summer 2011**

I'm dozing on the couch when I hear the house phone ring. I feel as if I've only just closed my eyes and I can't bring myself to move – I'm so comfy and warm and Masen is snuggled up into my side, his breathing deep and even. The phone stops after the second ring, and it takes me a second to realize that Charlie has probably answered it. I adjust the blanket Masen and I are wrapped up in and almost immediately I'm drifting off again.

I don't think much time has passed when I hear Charlie's laugh as he approaches the living room, and I'm stirred from sleep once more. I feel like a melodramatic teenage when I groan and throw my arm over my face, silently willing him to shut up.

But he doesn't, of course.

"Yeah, I'll let you tell her," he says, and I assume he's still on the phone, his voice getting louder as he gets closer. I squint up at him, scowling as he stands over the couch. He grins. "Yeah. Okay, well, hang on a sec, here she is." He practically throws the phone at me and makes his escape before I can give him hell for not just taking a message.

I grumble to myself as I sit up, blinking a few times as I run my fingers through my hair. I stare down at the phone for a few seconds before I finally pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Bella, hey," Rose's voice is soft and consoling and not the tone she was just using with my father, I'm sure.

"Hey," I say quietly, pulling myself unwillingly from the warmth of the blankets and couch and onto my feet. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands and tiptoe out of the living room so to not wake up Mase. "What's up?"

"How are you?"

I cover a yawn with the back of my hand. "I'm… okay," I tell her, though I doubt the sleepiness in my voice does little to convey it.

"Yeah," she says, like she knows that maybe I'm not really okay, but I will be. "I just want you to know, Bella…" She hesitates. "I think you did the right thing."

I squeeze my eyes shut, like it hurts to think about.

"I know," I breathe, but I don't really know because there's an aching in my chest and I feel like 'the right thing' shouldn't be so damn painful. "And thanks, Rose. But I just… I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"That's all right," she says softly, and I know that means she'll be there when I'm ready.

I make my way into the kitchen and take a seat at the table across from Charlie. I smile sleepily when I see he's got my laptop open on the table in front of him. It always feels like I'm staring at a living, breathing anachronism when I see him in front of a computer. Charlie raises his eyebrows back at me innocently. Really, the worst the old man could be doing on the computer is ruining my FreeCell average.

"Ro, I've got tickets for you and Em," I say into the phone as I grab an apple out of the fruit bowl. I pinch the stem between my fingers as I twirl it around on the tabletop. "And Esme and Carlisle, if they want to go too."

"Yeah, about that," Rose says, and I roll my eyes, not surprised she already knows I have them. "Emmett's just on his way home, and then we're coming to pick you up."

"Oh, really?" I laugh, tossing the apple up in the air and catching it. I glance over at Charlie, who looks like he's concentrating really hard to pretend like he's engrossed by what's on the computer screen.

"You can't mope around the house all night, Bella," Rose says.

"I wasn't planning on moping. And I'm tired, Rose."

"Nice try, but I know you had a nap. Now go get ready because we're going to be late as it is."

"_Rose_," I huff.

"We're not going without you," she says firmly. "And I know you, Bella. You're gonna regret it if you don't come."

I close my eyes and rub my forehead.

"Charlie already said he'd watch Mase…"

I sigh as I glance at Charlie. I can tell he was watching me but he looks down at the computer before I can catch his eye. There's mischief hiding behind that mustache, only I'm not quite sure what he's playing at.

And I mean, really, I should go… right? It's his last show. His _last show. _But the thought of being there, seeing him up on stage, tonight, today, after everything… The thought makes me shake. Like it's too much, like I'm afraid to face him and afraid to be there and afraid to watch one more thing come to an end today.

"You're over-thinking it, Bella," Rose says quietly, and I'm not sure how she knows exactly what's going through my mind. "It's supporting your friends; listening to some music. Let's be there for all of them – for Ty and Mark and Jas _and _Edward. For old times sake. Let's just… let's go have some fun."

"_Fun_," I repeat, and I try out a smile that feels lopsided, like it's not quite sure. Like maybe it could be fun. Like maybe there's no way it could be _less_ fun than today's already been.

And maybe it's what I need tonight. A drive to Portland with my best friends, music so loud I don't have to think. Stadium beers and rock show smoke in my lungs, getting lost in a crowd as Edward serenades twenty thousand people with the story of us.

"_Okay_," I say, my voice so quite I'm not even certain that I spoke. And then, this time louder, "Okay."

I can almost hear Rose's victorious grin. "We'll be there in twenty."

"Okay," I say again, because I can't seem to get the other words out – the honest ones, where I say that being there… it will mean so much more to him than just some friends going out to have some fun.

I hang up the phone and stare at it for a moment before I move. When I look up, Charlie is still subtly-but-not-really avoiding eye contact. "You know, you're not very good at this," I say pointedly.

He jumps like I've startled him. "Oh hey, didn't see you there," he says, but I catch his wily smile.

"Why are you doing this?" I squint at him.

He shrugs, and I think he's going to keep playing dumb until he says, "Sometimes we all need a nudge in the right direction, Bells."

"So…" I return the apple to the fruit bowl and lean back in my chair. "You think that the right direction is Edward?"

"What I think is that one day you'll wish you'd gone to that concert. No regrets, Bells."

"No regrets?" I eye him. "Have you been watching Friday Night Lights again, old man?"

"What? It's football!" he says defensively.

I laugh, and Timmy Riggins or no, I can't deny that Rose and my dad have a point. So I ruffle his graying hair and kiss his cheek as I tell him there's leftover pizza in the fridge for dinner.

I need to shower, to get the rest of this caked on Barbie make-up off my face, so I check on Masen and then make my way to the staircase. Just before I head up, I pause on the bottom step and glance back at Charlie. I feel a warm smile creeping on my lips when I notice his cheeks are a little pink.

I shake my head and jog upstairs, thinking about how truly thankful I am for my scheming, loving father.

**.x.**

The steamy water does little to block out the sound of the songs that swarm my mind as I pull pins from my hair and let them drop to the tile floor of the shower. I scrub the mascara and rosy blush from my cheeks and hear Edward singing_ we walk the streets of this small town like we are kings of the city now _and I think about the laughter and the days when everything came so easily, and we had no idea what the future had in store for us. I think about whispers of "I'll love you forever" as we slow dance at prom and when we truly believed there was no force strong enough to come between us. I hear him singing _I'll wait, always _and soon I don't know if it's the water falling on my face or if somehow I'm crying again.

By the time I emerge from the shower, I feel numb, like it's simply not possible to feel anymore than I already have. And as I get ready, I'm pretty good at not thinking about the implications of what going to this show tonight will be. It's easy to not dwell on the realization that tonight will mark the second time I've seen Edward in one day; and also the fourth time in the past year.

I'm also pretty good at casually pushing aside Garrett's clothes as I dig through our – _my_ – closet for an old t-shirt I know is stashed somewhere in the back. It's easy to reach over Garrett's toothbrush in the medicine cabinet as I go for my own. It's effortless, the way I weave my way amongst his belongings casually scattered in the bedroom and bathroom, left behind by someone who had expected to return. It's all so easy.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

I run my fingers through my hair as I blow dry it, and I know I'm probably pushing my twenty minute time limit, but I also know Rose and I know she'll probably be late. And when my hair is dry I pull out an stubby old kohl pencil from the bottom of my make-up bag, thinking that maybe no one will notice how puffy my eyes really are if they're painted black.

I walk through my room in unbuttoned jeans and a black bra and pick up the t-shirt I've dug from the closet, holding it out in front of me. As I look at the faded, peeling lettering across the front of the shirt, I find myself smiling at memories I could have sworn I'd forgotten. It feels like a lifetime ago when Edward silk-screened _Black Velvet Kings_ across the front of the old black shirt in the Forks High Com. Tech studio. It was more of a joke than anything. Like we thought that one day, maybe ten years down the road, I'd pull out the old t-shirt and call Edward and say, "hey, remember the name of the band you had back in high school? Black Velvet Kings? I just found that t-shirt you made me." And we'd laugh about how big and ridiculous we dreamt back then.

And now I laugh because we had no idea.

But the memories of those early days are sweet. They're simple. They're jamming in Tyler's barn and drinking stolen beers and Emmett rolling blunts on well-used copies of _Guitar World_. They're carving nonsense into an old wooden table with a flat head screwdriver and picking random words from a hat when it was time to come up with a band name. They're the days when we had nothing more to do than just be. They were good days, but I still don't really think they were _the_ good days.

Because I've come to realize that every day I spend with that boy downstairs, those are the good days. And I can only hope that when Edward – _if_ Edward – really does come back to us… then I hope he can come to realize the same.

"Yo! Slugger!" Emmett's voice travels up the stairs and I realize I'm still standing in my bra, holding the faded t-shirt out in front of me. I kind of shake myself as I snap out of it.

"Yeah?" I call out the door before I tug the shirt over my head and pull my hair out from where it's trapped, shaking my head so it falls back over my shoulders.

"We gonna get there tonight, or do you plan on catching the next show?"

I roll my eyes. _Funny._

"I'll be right down!"

I button my jeans and dig around for a belt, and I'm still in the process of tightening it when I come down the stairs. I follow voices to the kitchen, where I find Rose, Emmett, Masen and Charlie all chowing down on a plate of reheated pizza.

"Heya, sleepyhead," I catch Masen with a sloppy kiss as I reach across the table for a slice. "Hey guys," I greet Rose and Emmett. I go for nonchalance, hoping that if I don't make a big deal out of today's events, then neither will they.

"Nice shirt," Emmett smirks.

I've got a slice of pizza shoved in my mouth, so I just give him the thumbs up.

"Where are you going, Mommy?" Masen asks, twisting in his seat as I take a bite of pizza.

I'm in the midst of chewing so I tip my chin towards Rose, motioning her to explain.

"Uncle Emmet and I are taking your mom out tonight, so you can hang out with Grampa Charlie," she tells Masen.

"Can I come too?" he asks.

I finally swallow my bite of pizza and tousle his hair. I wish he could come – I wish he could see Edward like this. But a four-year-old on the floor at a rock show is just bad parenting, whether your dad is Edward Cullen or not. I considered the option of hanging out backstage during the show, but that backstage pass means nothing if the band has decided to close it off. Which, judging by the general hysteria surrounding the story leak, I wouldn't be completely shocked if they did.

"I really wish you could, but it's almost your bedtime, kiddo," I tell Masen. "Besides, what's Grampa Charlie gonna do if you leave?"

Masen looks over at Charlie and seems to consider this. "Well, can we watch a movie?"

"As long as it's not Toy Story," Charlie says, and Emmett nods in agreement. I think we've all watched Toy Story at least a hundred times in the past year, thanks to Mase.

"And not Die Hard." I eye Charlie.

Charlie raises his eyebrows back at me. "You forget that I raised a child, dear daughter."

"Yeah, and you forget that you raised her on movies like Die Hard."

Charlie shrugs unapologetically. "And she turned out not half bad."

"Gee, thanks. Anyway, aren't we in a hurry or something?"

"What? A little anxious, Bells?" Emmett's tone is teasing as he wipes his hands on his jeans. But he's looking at me kind of weird, so I absently brush at my shirt, thinking I got pizza sauce on it or something. I go for a second slice, and can still feel Emmett's eyes on me.

"What are you staring at?" I ask finally, wrinkling my nose as I inhale another bite of pizza.

"Nothing." He shakes his head and seems to snap out of it. "You just remind me of someone right now."

My mouth is full but I still ask, "Really? Who?"

He grins, eyes twinkling as he answers, "You."

I kind of, I don't know, feel like I should be weirded out or something by a comment like that, but instead I stand a little taller as I swallow my bite of pizza. "I kind of feel like me, too," I confess, and we smile at each other, like there's too many words to even begin. So we cheers our pizza's like they're beers and grin. And just like that, we've said practically nothing, but it's everything and there's not a thing left to explain.

"Yeah, but seriously guys, we really gotta go." Rose pushes herself off the counter as she glances down at her phone.

"Yeah," Emmett agrees and shoves the rest of his slice into his mouth. With his mouth stuffed with pizza he says something that sounds like, "Let's do this."

Rose rolls her eyes. "You're worse than the four-year-old," she mutters.

I snort in laughter as I wait for Masen to finish whatever story he's telling Charlie, and then steal another kiss. "I gotta go, baby," I say. "Be good for Grampa, okay? I love you."

"Okay, Momma. I love you, too."

I stop and smile because if I know one thing, it's that I'll never, ever tire of hearing Masen say that. "Have fun. And sweet dreams, baby."

"Sweet dreams, Momma."

Charlie is watching me, and I feel like he's about to tell me not to stay out past curfew or something, but instead he just smiles. "Have fun, Bells." He hesitates, then adds, "And be safe."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, shifting uncomfortably. "Thanks for…" he just nods like he knows. I give him a quick hug, feeling all jittery and I think I'm going to start losing my shit if we don't get moving.

I grab my wallet and my keys and Rose tosses me my cell and I shove it in my back pocket. "You'll want a jacket," she tells me. "Looks like rain." So I grab my leather bomber out of the closet and shove my feet into some shoes. I call out another good-bye towards the kitchen as Rose grabs my arm and starts dragging me towards the door. "The tickets!" I cry, and run back for them. I hand the envelope to Rose as we spill out into the light drizzle, giggling.

"Christ woman, when was the last time you had a night out without your son?"

I consider it for a second, and then snort at the irony. "Almost a year ago. Last time I caught a BVK show."

"Oh, that one you didn't tell me you had tickets for, you mean?" Her grip on my bicep tightens and I know she's teasing, but she's trying really hard to sound bitter about it.

I grin. "That's the one."

"You're up for this, though. Right?"

I look at Rose sideways. "Do I really have a choice?"

She nudges me. "You know what I mean."

I know she means physically, because it's pretty obvious my mind is a mess right now. "I feel pretty good, actually," I tell her, stretching. "Maybe the best I've felt in weeks."

Rose stops next to Charlie's old pick up and gives me a half-hug that turns into a really fucking big bear hug.

"Love you," I say quietly, once she finally lets me go and I can breathe again.

"Love you too," she says, her nose wrinkling up the way it does when she's trying to be serious and funny at the same time. She runs her hand along the red rusted box of the pick-up as we carry on down the driveway.

"You know…" I say casually, brushing up next to her and nodding towards the truck. "Edward lots his virginity on that tailgate."

Rose draws her hand back like she's been burned. She narrows her eyes at me. _"Really?"_

"Yep."

She turns, head tilted to the side as she inspects the truck.

"What, are you imagining it? You creep."

"Shut up. No, I'm just thinking… that truck is the perfect height."

I widen my eyes. "Right?"

She laughs into her hand. "Oh my god, Bella. And you say _Edward _lost his virginity there… Which means you lost your virginity how exactly?"

I smirk as I bite my lip, looking over at her and wondering if she can remember back that far. After all, she and Emmett were a year ahead of us in school, and not always too interesting in everything that went on in our lives. "Magic," I explain vaguely.

She rolls her eyes. "If you don't want to tell me, then fine. Anyway, that was like ten years ago. I can't fucking remember that shit. Plus," she says, in her best Slater impression, "We smoked a lot of weed, duuude."

"Ugh, we did." I look at her in mock horror, and then laugh. "I really hope my son does not live his teenage years like we did."

Rose waves her hand, like it was no big deal. "Ah, like your old man said, we all turned out all right."

I grin. "Yeah, I guess we did." We come to a stop beside the jeep and I pop open the door and climb into the back seat. I stifle my laughter as Rose throws a glance back at Charlie's truck before she hops into the front.

"Bella's telling dirty stories about your brother," she whispers to her boyfriend as she buckles up.

"Oh, god. Please. I don't want to know."

"Oh come on," I goad, sticking my head between the front seats. "I'm sure it's not anything you haven't done yourself."

Emmett shakes his head. "Trust me, there are some things about my brother that are best left to the imagination."

"I don't know babe, you've got a pretty filthy imagination," Rose snickers as the jeep roars to life. "Besides, he had to conceive that nephew of yours _somehow_."

Emmett just groans as Rose and I giggle like kids who just heard their teacher say "butt" for the first time. Emmett meets my gaze as he backs out of the driveway, and for a moment I get a glimpse of how much he truly has to say, now that it's just the three of us. But he only gives me a half smile and turns up the stereo as we pull out into the street. Letting out a long breath, I sit back in the hard bench seats of the Wrangler. I try to unwind and lose myself in the soulful wails of Myles Kennedy pouring from the speakers, but I'm having a hard time sitting still.

After just a few minutes of watching the slow, rhythmic wiper blades erase the dots of water that fall on the windshield, I dig my phone out and check messages. There's a few _I love you_'s and _call me when you can _from family and friends. Mostly supportive stuff, aside from the one _you bitch _text from one of Garrett's sisters, but I always had a feeling she never liked me much anyway. There's nothing from Edward, but why would there be? He probably thinks I'm Mrs. Bella Anderson by now.

I stare down at my phone, chewing on my lip as my thumb hovers over his name in my contact list.

"Did anyone call him?" I have to shout over the music. Rose twists the volume dial to the left and turns in her seat. I tilt my phone in her direction. "Did anyone call Edward?" I repeat.

"We tried," Emmett answers, and I can see the tension in his jaw as he speaks. "I even called Jasper and Ty. No one is picking up."

"Oh," I frown. Makes sense though, I guess. Every person on the planet who has any of their numbers has most likely been trying to get through to them ever since the story broke. Like the papers said, everyone wants the exclusive story, and one innocent comment to a friend could result in an explosion in the media. But… there's no way they've all gone completely off the grid. Not with such a big show tonight.

I swallow hard and tap his name on the screen, despite Emmett's insistence that I won't get through. I don't say it out loud, but in the back of my mind I think _it's me. _He has to pick up. He always picks up.

But it only rings once before I'm directed to his voice mail. I listen to his greeting, _"Hey, you've reached Edward Cullen, leave a message,_" and am promptly informed that his voice mail box is full. My heart is pounding and I don't realize how badly I was hoping that he'd pick up until I end the call.

"Nothing?" Emmett asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

Emmett chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "Only my baby bro, huh?"

I just shrug, because I don't really know what I was expecting. That he'd answer the phone, and then what? He'd forgive me just like that, for chasing him away earlier? That he'd be glad to hear for me, even after I walked the other way while he fell apart? That it would matter that I didn't get married, when I didn't even choose him?

All the excitement and the anxiousness that I was feeling is slowly turning to a heavy knot in the pit of my stomach.

"Bells, don't be too hard on yourself," Emmett says, and I realize he's watching me in the rear view mirror. "He wanted you to do something for yourself today, and you did. What more can he ask?"

I laugh, but it just sounds sad. I glance at Rose, and I know she's told Emmett everything, but I'm still never quite sure how he's going to react when it comes to his brother.

Emmett clears his throat, and turns down the volume on the stereo even though it's already playing at minimum. "I mean, you know as well as anybody that Edward and I have had our difference over the past few years," he says.

I nod and Rose snorts, but doesn't comment. Emmett gives her a sideways glance before he continues. "And maybe he's always had good intentions. At least, I hope he did. Most of the time." He squints out the windshield, his forehead creased as if he's deep in thought. "But do you want to know how I felt when I first saw that article?"

His eyes dart back to mine in the mirror and I nod again, not entirely trusting myself to speak.

"Well," Emmett pauses and scratches his jaw. "I was pretty pissed, to be honest. I don't know… I guess I was angry that he seems to think that he can just walk away from that life and turn around and walk back into ours without even the slightest indication of a heads up. I was mad that he didn't even consider what impact this would have on our lives. I mean, for Christ's sake, he could have told _someone_." Emmett's gaze is fixed on the road, and I can see a small smile tugging on his lips that doesn't seem to match his words.

"But then I realized that all that shit didn't really matter, because my little brother was coming home. My best friend is finally coming home. And that's kind of amazing."

I smile in relief, though for some reason it feel like I'm about to cry. "It really is, Emmett," I say softly.

"That's all I've wanted, all this time. I don't give a shit about his fame and fortune and whatever. I'm tired of him looking like he's absolutely miserable, and doing nothing about it. And maybe most people think I'm jealous, but whatever. I just wanted my baby brother home; I wanted him to be there for his family. I wanted Masen to have what we had growing up. He shouldn't have to be away all the time." I watch Rose reach over and take his hand, and they share a smile.

"And Bells, he decided this, not knowing if it would make a difference. Not knowing if you'd already be somebody else's wife or what his place would be in Masen's life. He's coming home either way. And for Edward, that's pretty huge."

I smile because I never really thought of it that way. "I hear you, Em, I really do. But… do you want to know what scares me?" Rose and Emmett are silent as they wait for me to continue. "He's leaving the band. But he never said he was coming home. Maybe we're all just making assumptions and that's why he never told us – maybe there's something else, I mean artists quit bands all the time and still stay in the business -"

"_Bella_." Rose and Emmett interrupt me at the same time, and look at each other as they laugh.

"If he's leaving the band, he's coming home," Emmett says, and he sounds so sure that I feel this swelling in my chest, like I can't help but believe him.

I let out a long breath as I shake my head slowly back and forth. "Today has been insane, right? Like, I know I'm being kind of neurotic, but today has been _insane_."

Emmett chuckles. "Dude, when this is all said and done, I'm going to write a book on the shit-show that is your guys' lives."

"Remember when our biggest worry was whose house we were going to drink at on a Friday night?" Rose sighs wistfully.

"Yeah, or whose turn it was to skim off their parents cigarette pack? And now I've got a kid whose going to start kindergarten in September and – and I almost got _married _today. Holy shit."

"_Holy shit_ is fucking right," Emmett agrees with a nod. "Feels like yesterday my baby bro came running home because some bully down the street knocked him off his bike."

"I didn't knock him off his bike!" I exclaim. "He ran into my mailbox! And I was just trying to show him how to do it right – it's not my fault he's so incredibly sensitive."

Rose turns to face me with an eyebrow raised. "You know, it seems like you're the one always making poor Edward Cullen cry."

"It's not like he never deserved it!" I cry, burying my face in my hands, but we're all too busy laughing for the guilt to settle in.

Once the laughter has died down, Emmett turns the music back up so it's comfortable background noise. Rose sighs, her voice soft as she looks back at me. "You guys sure have been through a lot, huh?"

I nod my head slowly as I think back. There's no denying that the history we've shared has been anything but typical. Twenty years I've know Edward. And over twenty years, he's been my best friend, my boyfriend, the father to my child, and a complete stranger. Sometimes all of it, all at once.

"Are you sure you're ready for him to come home?" she asks.

"Rose," I say softly, looking her dead in the eye as I reply. "I think a part of me has been ready since the day he left."

**.x.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **You can find an EPOV chapter as a new story in my profile, for those of you who didn't see it when I first posted it. Check it out if you're interested! There are more outtakes on the way :)**  
><strong>

Gotta thank Kristina, my beta extraordinaire, and cejsmom, my kickass pre-reader.

And thank you thank you all so, so much for reading


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**Summer 2011**

Rain is falling from the sky in thick curtains as Emmett eases the jeep down the I-5 and into the heart of Portland. I've been playing Tetris on my phone for the past hour, attempting to distract my mind and calm my heart, which feels like it wants to leap from my chest and race the jeep down the interstate. It's closing in on nine o'clock, and I know we've missed the opening bands, and there's a pretty good chance we'll miss the beginning of the BVK set too.

But we'll be there, that's what matters. Or at least that's what Rose keeps saying.

"Guess this is one way to beat the traffic," Emmett mutters. We all look outside the vehicle, and it's almost eerie how calm it is. He eases off the interstate exit for The Rose Quarter and we begin cruising the side streets, taking in the steady stream of 'Parking Full' signs at the entrance to every parking lot.

"Because everyone is at the fucking show," I grumble.

"Yeah this… sucks," Rose agrees.

We all fall silent as we use our sleeves to wipe the fog from the windows and squint out, scouring for a place to park. We do laps around the arena for what feels like forever before finally, finally Emmett scores us a spot. He backs in between two lifted trucks in some back alley, and I sigh when I look up and see we could practically take a cab to the arena.

"Glad I suggested a coat?" Rose smirks, noticing the look on my face.

I frown. "It's not too late, you know. We could probably get – what – a grand a piece for these tickets? We could take off to Mexico for a few days and no one would have to know."

They laugh like I'm joking. "Come on," Rose says, pushing open the passenger door and hopping out into the rain. "If we run, we might have time to chug a beer before they start."

Rose walks around to where Emmett is waiting at the front of the jeep. He takes her hand and they look back at me as I emerge from the cab, holding my arm above my head to shield it from the rain. "Can you do this?" Emmett asks.

"I can _run_," I say, kind of offended.

He raises his eyebrows. "That's a matter of opinion."

I shove him as I jog past. "Come on, try and keep up, Cullen."

They take off after me, and together we race through the rain. We jump curbs and rush past other people walking the sidewalks with their heads down and umbrellas up. Rose clutches the envelope of tickets in one hand, a line of mascara tickling down her cheek as she dodges puddles.

I stumble once and Emmett is at my side, his hand on my elbow as he steadies me. I shoot him a smile of gratitude and for a moment I wonder how much will change between Emmett, Masen, and I once Edward's home. Em always took his role of protector so seriously after Edward left, and that was the main cause of the tension between the two brothers. Even with Garrett around, Emmett was there for us so much. But really… I don't think he could change his ways if he tried.

And I don't think I'd let him, anyway.

"You guys, I'm soaked!" I shriek as we all hug the sidewalk to avoid getting splashed by a passing car.

"Join the club!" Rose calls back.

"For someone who lives in Seattle," I pant, shooting a glance at Emmett, "You'd think he'd have at least one umbrella in his vehicle."

Emmett pauses for a second. "I do!" he cackles, slapping me on the back. "I totally forgot! Oh well, too late now!"

"Fuck sakes, Emmett," Rose growls, and speeds past him.

By the time we arrive at the entrance, we're clutching our sides, breathless and doubled-over laughing. Or, in my case, trying not to puke.

There's no line leading to the doors, just the odd cluster of people smoking cigarettes in the designated areas. As I catch my breath, I strain to listen for any familiar notes drifting out from the area. I don't hear anything so I think that maybe, maybe, maybe we made it in time. We step inside the entrance, trying in vain to wring the water from our clothes and hair as Rose hands out the tickets.

"What do I do with the spare?" she asks, holding it in the air.

We all look at each other and shrug. So I grab it from her hand and sprint back outside to the first group of smokers I come across.

"Anyone here need a ticket?" I ask, and am met only with blank stares. "A ticket," I repeat slowly, brushing raindrops from my face. "It's a floor seat. Just take it. Give it away, it doesn't matter." I shove it at the guy who stands closest to me, and he's still blinking at me like he's trying to decide what the hell is happening. I don't wait for him to make up his mind.

"Did you just give it away?" Rose gapes, her eyes wide as I rejoin her and Em.

I shrug. "It's no good to us in there."

"Yeah but…" She seems to be at a loss so finally she just shakes her head. "All right, then. Come on, overpriced beer is calling me."

We get our tickets scanned and file through the doors into the crowded halls of the Rose Garden. And I just kind of stand there for a second, looking around as people weave around us, rushing to get into lines for food and drinks and merch before the show begins.

"We're not late!" Rose cheers victoriously. "Come on, let's get down there."

We follow the lines of people heading towards the stairs, and once we're on the ground floor-level Rose is craning her neck to check out the drink lines while I'm shuffling my feet nervously.

"You guys go grab beer. I'm gonna go…" my voice trails off as I glance behind me, to where the crowd tapers off and blocks of tall, white curtains are set up to separate the public from the area behind the stage. I clear my throat. "I'll meet you after the show, if… we get separated."

Rose grins knowingly and Emmett gives me a light shove toward the curtains. I take a deep breath, like I'm preparing to leap into completely unknown waters.

My jacket feels like it's suctioned to my skin as I peel off it off and jog toward the nearest man in a Security uniform. He's got his arms crossed over his chest, surveying the crowd as he stands guarding the backstage entrance. His expression turns rigid when he sees me approach.

"Sorry, miss," he says, holding up his hands to stop me. "No one is permitted backstage before the show."

"But—" I dig out my all-access pass and he waves me off without even glancing at it.

"I'm sorry, but I'm under strict orders. Only the bands and their crew members can be back at this time."

"You don't understand," I say quickly. "I just need to see Edward Cullen-"

His short bark of a laugh cuts me off, "You and every other female in this place."

I feel my hands clench in frustration, and yeah, I knew there was a good chance of this happening. But I'm so close; I'm _so _damn close. "If – please – if someone could just deliver a message for me, tell him that I'm – tell him that Bella's here…"

He shakes his head, looking almost sorry for me.

"Don't bother," comes a bitter voice from behind me, and I whirl around to find a petite, raven-haired girl glowering at the security guard. She has bright pink eye shadow and the tips of her hair look like they were dipped in a can of red paint – she's stunning, in the really strong and scary kind of way. Her face softens as she meets my gaze. "They won't even let _me _back there."

Her words could be condescending, but they're not. I fact, I recognize that tone. My heart leaps at the realization – it's the voice of someone who's with the band.

"Who are you?" I ask anxiously.

Her head tilts as she takes me in, and I feel uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. I shove damp locks out of my face and cross my arms over my chest. I open my mouth to repeat the question, but she replies before I can get the words out.

"I'm Alice. And you're… Bella Swan." I'm unnerved by the fact that she knows who I am. She's still assessing me, like she's heard a lot about me and she's trying to decide how much of it is true. She kind of laughs to herself and offers me a half-smile, "I was beginning to think I'd never meet you."

"Alice," I repeat, blinking. The name sounds familiar, but I'm not sure why.

"I'm Jasper's girlfriend," she supplies. She says the word 'girlfriend' with a kind of distaste, like it's not big enough to describe what she and Jas have.

I get that.

"And you… _you're _not supposed to be here right now." Her grin widens, and I think she's finding this all very amusing.

"I need to see Edward," I say quickly. "Or talk to him. _Please_."

She starts walking backward, away from the curtains, and I follow her.

"I can't help you," she says, shrugging apologetically. "I haven't even been able to get through to Jasper all day. He's kind of been losing his shit ever since Tyler, well, ya know," she makes an exploding motion with her hands.

"I know," I say, though I really don't. "But… isn't there anyone you can call? Maybe that bodyguard – what's his name? Demitri?"

Alice shakes her head slowly. "I don't have Dem's number. If I did, I would have already called him. Besides, the guys will be going on any minute."

I'm trembling as I suck in a deep breath. "There's got to be some way…" I'm trying my best to not sound completely and utterly desperate, and failing terribly.

"If you really want him to know you're here, you'll figure it out," Alice says with another shrug as she backs away. "I'm sorry I can't help you, Bella."

"But –" I glance instinctively over my shoulder when I hear my name being called, and by the time I look back Alice has already disappeared into the crowd. I scowl, the maternal side of me wondering what the hell these guys would do if there had been some kind of emergency and someone needed to get a hold of them. Idiots.

I'm still scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Alice when I feel someone race up next to me. I exhale a sigh of disappointment and turn and find myself looking into a familiar face.

"Bella! Holy shit, Bella Swan!"

"_Jess?" _I say in surprise as a wavy-haired brunette throws her arms around me. I shakily hug her back. "Oh, wow… hey, Jess."

"Bella, oh my god," she pulls away, standing on the balls of her feet in excitement as she claps her hands together. I take her in and can't help but smile – Jessica Stanley looks exactly the same as she did the day we graduated from Forks High. "I haven't seen you in, oh my god, _so_ long. How are you?"

"I'm… good," I say hesitantly, still kind of distracted.

She jumps into the next questions before I can ask her how she is. "I can't believe you're here! Oh my god! And can you believe this is their last show? This is crazy. I was just telling my friend about you, and, you know, Edward," she raises her eyebrows suggestively as she gestures so the girl standing quietly next to her. "She's a Tyler girl, and I keep trying to tell her how much of a douche Ty was growing up, but she won't listen to me."

I smile at her friend, not really sure what to say. Tyler was mostly just a douche to Jess growing up.

"He's changed a lot," I offer her friend lamely, but shit, how would I know? It's been years since I saw Ty last.

Jess waves me off. "Hey, I heard from your dad that you were getting married soon! When's the wedding?"

I toe my shoe along the carpet at our feet. "Today. Well, it was supposed to be. Didn't exactly pan out."

Her face falls. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Jess says.

I smile tightly. "Thanks. But it was for the best."

She looks at me sympathetically. "I mean, I heard that song, and I kind of put it together… and then obviously we all heard the news. And Edward isn't usually so literal, you know. But… you guys were always so good together. And hey, your kid! How's your kid? How old is he now?"

"He'll be five in November," I say, feeling a flicker of a smile cross my face. "And he's amazing. He's really… he's a really great kid."

"Masen, right?"

I nod.

"He's a cute little dude," Jess grins. "Charlie is always showing me pictures whenever he comes into the diner. Which is a little too often, actually. We need to find old Charlie a girlfriend."

I snicker at the idea, but it makes me a little sad to picture how lonely my dad must be in Forks. "One day, hopefully," I tell her.

Jess nods with this scheming look in her eye and I think, oh man, Charlie might be in trouble if Jessica Stanley has actually just appointed herself matchmaker.

I hear a throat clear behind me and I look back to see Emmett and Rose come strolling up, each carrying two cups of beers stacked one atop the other. I step back to make room for them in our little mini-circle.

"What the hell? You get lost, Swan?" Emmett asks as they join us.

"What? Oh, no. They're not letting anyone backstage," I sigh. "I guess we'll just find him after. And hey, do you guys remember Jess Stanley? She graduated with Edward and I."

I look back at Jess and she's just staring at Rose and Emmett, eyes wide. For someone who could hardly stop talking long enough to take a breath, she's suddenly astonishingly quiet. I squint at her in confusion until I remember that she used to have the biggest crush on Emmett growing up. And she was terrified of Rose. I start coughing into my arm.

Awkward.

"Hi!" she squeaks, giving this really sporadic wave of her hand with her elbow glued to her side.

Emmett gives her a nod as he hands me the beers.

"Both?" I ask him.

He points to himself. "Driver," he reminds me.

"Sucker," Rose snickers. I peer at her as I pry the lid off of my top cup of beer. Her cheeks are a little flushed and her grin is sloppy.

"Did you manage to get _drunk _in the five minutes since I saw you?"

She shrugs nonchalantly and sips her drink.

Emmett rolls his eyes. "The guy in front of us bought her shots. She told him I was her bodyguard."

"_What?"_

"Hey, I didn't have to pay, and I still get to go home with that fine ass tonight." He gives Rose a little tap and a wink and she giggles into her drink.

Jess makes a weird noise that sounds like it comes from the back of her throat, and we all look up at her. "Ummm…" she says, eyes darting around frantically when she realized we're all staring at her. "We should really get to our seats – I think they're starting soon. It was really good to see you, Bella. And… everybody else." Her silent friend gives us a wave as Jess grabs her arm and drags her away.

"I do not remember that chick," Emmett says lowly as they vanish in the crowd.

"Well she sure remembers you," I smirk.

He puffs his chest out. "I do tend to make a lasting impression, don't I?"

I open my mouth to reply, but a sudden cry of excitement ripples through the halls. I crane my neck and see that the house lights have gone down in the arena. The show is about to begin.

"Let's meet back here after the show," I call to Emmett and Rose over the shrieks of the crowd.

"Deal." Emmett gently fist-bumps my beer and we hurry towards the line of people anxiously waiting to get to their spot on the floor. An attendant slaps a neon orange band around our wrists so we don't have to try and produce our tickets every time we come and go, and before I even have a second to take a breath we break through the crowd and stand before the stage. I hardly get a chance to take it all in – my heart is in my throat, the people are screaming, _screaming_ as the lights dim further and we weave through the crowd to secure ourselves a better view. I stop and chug a beer, slipping the full cup into the empty one because I know that once the band comes out most of the contents will end up all over the floor.

Emmett is watching me with a sort of proud expression on his face. I shrug nonchalantly and smile into my beer. I still got it.

Rose grabs a hold of my free hand and she smiles wide, as if she's saying 'told you you wouldn't want to miss this.' I grin back, but I don't even bother to try and tell her she's right because it's so loud.

It's _so_ loud.

And suddenly the lights are out, and aside from the flash of cameras in the stands and the dim lights of those in the box seats, we are standing in complete darkness. The crowd, it gets louder still and the ground seems to shake with anticipation and I look around in awe. It's so loud I can't even think.

People start chanting, and it goes on for so long that I wonder if they've forgotten about us all out here, packed together so tight I can almost feel the guy in front of me sweating through the back of his shirt.

Then, just when I'm truly thinking that people are going to start passing out if they keep us waiting any longer – if the crowd keeps screaming the way the are – the loud _thump, thump_… _thump, thump_ of the bass drum pulsates through the air. My heart pounds along with it and in my mind I see Garrett sitting behind that drum set, neon green bandana tied around his shaggy locks, and shit, it fucking hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut for just a moment, but the image of him is still there, and I forgot that he'd find a way to follow me here, too.

_I miss him _I think, because I do. And I hurt but it feels like letting go because this, being here, even in all the pain that today has brought… it's right somehow.

Then, through the darkness I hear the distinct wail of the electric guitar, and then a second guitar, then the bass joins in. And they're playing something fast, and people start moving, and then finally, finally there's a spotlight, and there's Edward.

I let out a breath that feels like a thousand.

People surge forward, towards the stage, like they think they have a chance of reaching him up there. I stumble along with the crowd, Rose's grip tight around my fingers. The screams, they have to be breaking the sound barrier. For a moment it's just Edward, crooning into the mic, and then he finishes the first line and then _bam! _Lights. And there are the rest of the boys.

It's unlike anything I've ever seen.

I'm trembling and my smile is so big that it aches.

There's music and I'm moving to the beat and for a moment I'm just another fan, and it's just the music, like in the old days when that's all we lived and breathed.

It doesn't take long until Rose's hand keeps slipping from my grasp, and we share a look over top of some girls' head. "It's okay," I mouth, and with my free hand I give her a thumbs up. I look around, and spot Emmett a few rows back. I nod my head toward the stage so they know I'm going to try and get closer.

It takes one step to lose myself in the crowd. I finish my beer as I weave around a tangle of limbs and bodies, dancing, jumping, laughing with complete strangers. There's already a haze above our heads, people lighting up and ducking from security as they puff, puff, pass. I push my damp hair out of my face as I gaze up at the stage. I'm so close I can feel the vibrations of the speakers rumble deep in my chest, and yet I'm still not close enough.

When the last note of the first song draws to an end, the crowd screams like it's their job to fill the silence. Edward grins down at the crowd, shielding his face from the lights as he squints out towards the people who stand on their feet in front of their seats around the bowl of the arena. There's a wave of bodies rushing forward to reach the stage, and I surge along with the crowd, my feet dancing to keep from tangling with the ones around me.

And I think I'm glad I never had to stick with my promise of being there, front row at every show. MS aside, it would be an impossible, nearly suicidal task.

Edward laughs and the mic picks it up, the warmest, happiest sound amplified throughout the arena. The man standing up there, he's not the same one I left behind the church this afternoon. He's Edward Cullen, world-famous musician. _"There's a reason they call it a performance,"_ I can hear his voice tell me when I first asked him, years ago, why he never looks even slightly afraid up there. He's not an actor, but I always liked to believe I knew which parts of him were the performance and which ones were real.

Edward glances over first to Ty and then Mark, and they're grinning like they're in awe, like they don't see this every single time they play. And they all just stand there while the crowd continues to cry out, and I'm sure they're breathing it all in, locking into memory, because who knows when any of them will experience anything like it again.

"We have a confession to make," Edward says finally, stepping closer to the microphone and sweeping his hair out of his face. The screams begin to taper off as people quiet down to hear what he has to say. He looks out at the crowd, a crooked smile on his face.

"We're supposed to be promoting our new album tonight." There's a loud cheer in response. "And we have a list of songs we're supposed to play for you. But uh…" He looks over at Tyler, like he's asking him to help out.

Tyler leans forward, into his own mic, hair falling into his face and his voice deep as he says, "We say, fuck the set list."

More screams as the crowd explodes.

"Tonight, we're gonna play whatever the fuck you guys want to hear." Tyler points out at the crowd as it erupts into madness. I grin and holler along with them. Oh, the label is going to love this – they might as well be giving the record company the finger on their way out. But tonight… tonight isn't about the suits. It's about all the people who forked over god-knows how much money to be a part of this audience.

Edward swings his guitar around his back and slides his mic from the stand, taking a step toward the edge of the stage and crouching down. My eyes widen. He's just to my left – there are maybe only a dozen people that separate me from him.

"So…" he says slowly. I can see his eyes scanning the faces as hands reach up toward him, desperate just to brush against his leg, his arm, any piece of him that they can find. My heart starts pounding as I begin pushing my way forward. I'm close; I'm so, so close. I feel a hand on my arm and I try and shake it off until I glance back and see that it's Rose. We share a quick knowing look and together we try and slip between the bodies. But the people in front of us are as solid as a wall, and I stand on my tiptoes, praying he'll look up, praying he'll spot me.

Edward points at teenaged girl with short, fiery red hair. "What's your favorite song?" he asks, extending the mic out towards her. He quickly brings it back to his mouth. "Of ours," he clarifies with a grin, and people around me laugh.

I'm almost jumping in the air, trying to get his attention. _See me_, I silently urge. _See me!_

Rose cups her hands around her mouth and hollers, "Cullen!" His eyes flicker our way for just a fraction of a second and my heart freezes as I stand as tall as I can, one hand in the air to try and get his attention. But he's already turned back to the redhead, and she answers him shyly with the name of her favorite BVK song. He does the same to three or four other people in the audience. I'm all but stripping down and chucking my clothes at him to get his attention, and by the time I finally break free and hit the front of the stage, he has his back to me and is putting the mic back on the stand.

"Well," he says, nodding to the guys, and they nod back.

"Let's do this shit," Ty says, and the crowd explodes as Mark starts playing the opening riff to the song the redhead requested. Edward swings his guitar back around and joins him.

I feel myself deflate, like _really? Really? _Were this a movie, it would have been the perfect ending. He'd lean out, and we'd lock eyes through the crowd. He'd pretend like we were strangers and ask me my favorite song. Then he'd hold the microphone out to me, and I'd tell him: it's you, at sixteen, cross-legged on the grass, pouring out your soul in the only way you know how.

But this is real life and it just doesn't work that way. I can make it to the show just in time, and then not get backstage. I can push my way right to the front, and still not be seen. And I'm seriously beginning to think that this, whatever it is, just isn't in the cards for us tonight. But I just want him to know. I just want him to know I'm here – that the girl that he sings about, she's here; she isn't somebody else's wife.

Around me, the audience starts moving to the beat and I brace myself against the edge of the stage as I peer up at Edward. When he plays he rarely looks right down, to the people in the front row. He likes to sing to the stadium, to the people in the back, to the ones that don't have the chance of catching a guitar pick or a drumstick when the band makes their exit at the end of the night. And people, they love that about him. They say he makes it feel like every single person is a part of the show. But right now, I really just wish he would focus on those of us right in front of him.

I glance over my shoulder and smile tentatively when I see Rose standing guard behind me, creating a tiny bubble of protection between me and the people surrounding us. I hate that it has to be this way; that I can't really join in as the bodies all around collide with one another, laughing, dancing, moving to the beat.

I sigh and take a few shaky steps back from the stage and those around me rush to fill my spot. Together Rose and I make our way away from the stage, to a place where people aren't packed so tightly together, where we have a little more space to breathe it all in.

We stand and we just absorb the music. I try to not let my disappointment get me down as I admire Edward up on stage – there are twenty thousand people watching him, yet he's so completely unafraid. He demands a quiet control over the crowd, and people, they genuinely want to hear every word that he has to say. They want to hear his voice, so strong, so clear. So sure and so full of everything he sings about.

I close my eyes for a moment when he croons, _"do not ask the price I paid, for I must live with my fall from grace," _and it makes me sad, but it fills me up, like it's slowly replacing the pain and sadness from today with something that feels a lot like hope.

People are singing along so loud that at one point Edward just steps away from his mic and laughs in disbelief as the audience carries the song, the voices of twenty thousand swelling in harmony throughout the arena. I feel a shiver run down my spine and goose bumps on my arms that make me tremble.

It just hurts, how beautiful. Just all of it. The words, the music, his voice, the crowd. The look on his face, a smile that's brighter than the lights that shine down from above. It makes my heart hurt, but not in a painful way. More like it could explode with the happiness, the beauty, the feeling of knowing you're living in a moment you were meant to be in.

I have tears in my eyes, but they're the happy ones. They're the ones that set you free.

About halfway through their set, the stage lights go dim and it's just Edward standing under a soft yellow spotlight. He takes off his guitar and sets it in a stand on the side of the stage. Mark and Ty set down their instruments and disappear somewhere in the dark. The crowd goes nuts when Edward picks up his acoustic and someone sets a tall stool in the center of the stage, directly behind his microphone. He settles himself onto the stool and pulls the mic down. His gray tee is clinging to his chest and he has to wipe his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. And just before he speaks, for just a moment, I see a flicker of the anguish he disguises so well under the lights. It's just the slightest flash; a wrinkle on his forehead and a hollowness in his smile before he clears his throat and it's gone. He's looking down at his guitar when he addresses the crowd.

"I gotta say, today has been bittersweet as fuck, for the whole band." He swallows hard and looks up into the audience, and it's not pain on his face but a sad apology. "It's not easy, saying good-bye."

My heart clenches and for a moment I feel like his gaze is directly on mine. I hold onto it, and for a second I really do believe he sees me, scattered among faceless strangers in the back. When he glances back down, I see that people all around have tears on their cheeks and smiles on their faces as they stare ahead, hypnotized by Edward up on stage. It takes him a moment before he can speak again.

"So we're going to do our best to avoid those sappy good-byes tonight. Because tonight is about the fucking music." The crowd applauds and I clap slowly along with them, wondering if he's saying those words for the audience or if he's trying to remind himself. "And those guys back there, those amazing musicians that I've been blessed to play with all these years… I promise, it's not the last you'll hear from them. And as far as I'm concerned… well, it's be a hell of a ride, guys." Edward kind of dips his head in gratitude and the crowd is yelling and stomping their own thanks right back at him. I smile sad and blink hard.

"If you've been to one of our shows before, you'll know I like to try and play a couple acoustic songs. And this first one you all won't recognize. It's something I've been working on for a while, and I finally put together the ending today. This is the first time I've played it for a crowd, so go easy." He grins his charming grin and runs his fingers through his hair, and the females around me swoon. I feel my heart rate pick up, and I can hear Rose lean over and yell at the girls next to us, "My best friend used to sleep with him!" She points at me, and they look over at us in astonishment. I'm not sure if their amazement is because they believe her or if they're wondering how such a beautiful girl could be so delusional.

"Rose," I mutter, elbowing her in the ribs.

She grins back at me and holds up her hands innocently. "What? You did."

I shake my head and turn my attention back to the stage. Edward adjusts the mic one more time and hooks the heels of his boots into the bottom rung of the wooden stool. He draws in a deep breath as his fingers start strumming his acoustic. The crowd starts swaying, and there's a flicker as lighters and the cell phones begin dotting the arena. The music, it's meandering and it's lovely. It's haunting and it's so alive I swear I could reach out and touch the notes as they drift through the air.

My knees feel like they could give out as he sings the first line into the microphone.

"_You'll remember me, constantly, when you laugh with the one we made." _

It's like being hit upside the head with emotions. I almost recoil, sucking in a gasping breath. For a moment the stage looks like a mirage as tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision.

"_And you'll remember me, painfully, when you realize what you've chosen." _

I cross my arms over my chest and drag the back of my hand under my eyes. I have to blink hard before I look up again.

"_We dance with words, with what's unsaid, and reach so far between the distance." _

Rose's hand finds mine and I look over to see Emmett standing on her other side, his arm around her shoulders.

"_We turn our backs and long to find, that sweetest time, where we forget to hurt each other."_

Every word is piercing, every word aches. But it's beautiful and the tears fall slow and steady until the end, the ending he found today, and I shudder because I want to reach out to him and tell him it's not the end, it's not the end.

"_And when, we meet again, it'll be as friends, but I'll always think that maybe."_

My breath stammers and trembles in my chest.

"_You'll sit by me, and then you'll see, we can reclaim what was stolen."_

The song isn't a song though, not really. There's no verse, no chorus – it's just a simple, sad yet hopeful tale of love. The song drifts to a close, and the audience's applause sound more hoarse this time.

Or maybe it's just my own.

But as I watch him, I can't help but think that Edward Cullen doesn't know a thing about endings.

Not a single thing.

**.x.**

You'll remember me, constantly,  
>When you laugh with the one that we made.<br>And you'll remember me, painfully,  
>When you realize the one you've chosen.<br>As we dance with words, with what's unsaid  
>And reach so far between the distance.<br>We'll turn our backs, and long to find  
>That sweetest time, where we forget to hurt each other.<p>

But please remember me, at seventeen,  
>Chasing angels in the garden.<br>The cleanest hands, and no revenge  
>Knowing both all that we wanted.<br>Then once, upon a dream,  
>You came to me<br>And said we can't keep what we've stolen.

So I beg you please, remember me  
>On both my knees, saying fuck them all,<br>And come, just leave with me  
>I'll never do you wrong<br>Again

And you'll think of me, half asleep,  
>In the wrong mans arms.<br>And when, we meet again  
>It'll be as friends,<br>But I'll always think that maybe.  
>You'll sit by me,<br>And then you'll see  
>We can reclaim what was stolen<p>

**.x.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I have to thank Iron & Wine for a beautiful melody that inspired the lyrics, but the words are mostly Edward's. Errr, well, mine, I guess. Because fictional characters aren't real, right? orthatswhatmyhusbandsays

Huge thanks to my beta Kristina, and to cejsmom for prereading. & thank you all so much for reading!

Just another quick reminder (because I had to go back and add it after I posted the last chapter) - there are a couple of EPOV chapters posted under a new story, which can be found on my profile :)


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